


Den of M[arionettes] — Whumptober 2020

by Boomchick, tomowowo



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Amputation, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Branding, Confinement, Digital Art, Eventual Happy Ending, Exhaustion, Eye Trauma, Falling In Love, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Friendship, Hidden Injury, Human Experimentation, Hypothermia, Illustrations, M/M, Mako Tubes, Nightmares, Now the Real Tags:, Only Bad Guys Time Travel, Poisoning, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Self-Harm, Sensory Deprivation, Strangulation, Torture, Unethical Experimentation, Violent Prophetic Visions, Whump, Whumptober 2020, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 94,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26731612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomowowo/pseuds/tomowowo
Summary: A twist of fate throws Cloud Strife’s life off course.A chance at happiness leads Sephiroth towards devastation.Their friends' lives hang in the balance.Can anything good come from a calamity?[A story framed around the Whumptober 2020 prompts, illustrated by Tomowowo! Each piece of art and chapter are drawn/written in a single day. Updates daily until complete!]
Relationships: Angeal Hewley & Genesis Rhapsodos & Sephiroth, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 512
Kudos: 507
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [A little taster to set the stage before we begin in earnest tonight.]

“Well?”

It was not like his dreams usually were. None of them had been, since the Other arrived. Gone were the empty corridors of a never-ending science department. Gone were the dark, lonely silences. Now there was only him.

“Just as you said. All three missions.”

The Other was not like him. The smile that crossed his face seemed impossible.

“Any discrepancies?”

Cool, and smooth, and velvety. His words brimmed with delight. His eyes shone in excitement.

“None in the reports. They were exactly as you dictated them to me.”

A tilt of the Other’s head. Pleasure in every line of him.

“Then this timeline can be expected to react as mine did. I assume you believe me now?”

The Other was floating bare inches above him. He seemed to feel no need to stand. Not even to pretend. His hair twined through the void as if it were an ocean.

“Yes.”

The Other drew a deep breath, as if savoring it. The smile grew. A sharp grin.

“Good.” The Other murmured, praise and pleasure. “There is so much to be done.”

Sephrioth watched the Other without understanding. Perhaps he should have asked more questions. Demanded more proof. More information. But it was intoxicating to watch him.

The Other— no _—_ the _Sephiroth_ before him could have been no one else. His silver hair shone. His inhuman eyes gleamed. And yet though they were the same, the Other was as unfamiliar as a stranger. Sephiroth could not remember ever grinning. Could not remember laughing with abandon, as the Other had the first moment they met. He could not even conceive of the joy the Other seemed to be bathing in constantly.

He did not understand. But the Other said he would. With time.

_(‘If I told you everything at once," the Other had said, "it would change too much too fast. We must work carefully. Inch by inch.’)_

“And the work.” Sephiroth said into the silence of the almost-dream. “It will make me…?”

He did not complete the sentence. He didn’t have to. The Other’s smile stretched. He reached out with both hands. Slid them over Sephiroth's face, holding holding his jaw lightly between his hands.

“When it is over,” the Other whispered with the the air of a promise, “you will be so happy.”

Sephiroth took a slow breath. Held still under the Other’s hands as his own gloved thumbs stroked over his cheekbones.

“Where do we begin?” Sephiroth asked, his voice sounding flat and broken in comparison to the Other’s warm happiness.

The dark wing stretched up from the Other’s back. Dwarfed them both in its shadow. The feathers trembled, and though he did not have a wing _('_ _you will,' the Other said),_ Sephrioth knew it shook from excitement.

“First,” the Other said, “you must find the Trooper known as Cloud Strife."


	2. Hanging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is having a very bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for strangulation in effect and blood in effect in this chapter.

[<For more of Tomo's art, click here!>](https://twitter.com/tomowowo?lang=en)

* * *

“Whoa, dude, that’s fucked up!”

Cloud was running low on coherent thoughts, but he could still think ‘shit’ clearly enough. It was almost all he was thinking. Playing on loop in his mind as he struggled, bucking and thrashing. The knee pressed into his back pushed harder, shoving a wheezing sound from his chest.

“Let” —Cloud grit his teeth against the pain— “Go!” He couldn’t taste anything but blood. This was bad. This was very, very bad. 

_Do something_ , he ordered himself. _Think of something!_

 _Shit,_ his mind thought in response. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

“Stop wiggling.” The guy on top of him said.

“Dude, yes! Check this out, I think it’ll work! He’s short enough.”

Cloud twisted. Straining against the hold on his arms. Caught sight of what they were—

“No!” He gasped.

“Hah! Look how pale he just got. Not so cocky now, are you?”

At least Cloud's mind had adopted a new chant. Looking at the loop of leather. Taken from the trooper's suspenders, repurposed into a make-shift noose.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no—_

Life at Shinra had already been bad enough. Cloud hadn’t been disliked. Not really. He was quiet, and there were some guys who got that, and others who took it as permission to bother him. It hadn’t started getting bad until… Well, until he started getting _good_. 

It wouldn’t have been a problem, except that up until a couple weeks ago, despite all his ambition, Cloud had been mediocre at best. Then all at once it just… Clicked. Right around the time he started having those dreams.

Unfortunately, it seemed the troopers who had disliked mediocre, quiet Cloud felt differently about suddenly competent Cloud. As he started to beat them in test after test, dislike had transformed into outright hatred. But never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would go this far— Go to the lengths of—

“You can’t!” He yelled as the other guy grabbed hold of him as well. He didn’t even know their _names_. Didn’t know what their problem was, or what they wanted. Trying to ask had been what got him caught in the first place.

He didn’t bother asking now. He kicked wildly as they dragged him up. Snapped at the closest one’s face. His teeth met through the fragile skin of the man’s cheek, and he tore a mouthful free, viciously, blood spattering. Just slow them down, just make enough noise, just make it has hard for them as possible, just—

“Ow! Mother _fucker_!” The bitten trooper howled, and lashed out in response. Cloud couldn't get away from the hit. Took it on the chin, and the world went grey around him. Everything too distant as their voices hummed and muddled together. As he struggled to regain his feet. To keep fighting.

In the daze, some part of him started writing a letter home.

_Hey ma,_

_Sorry, still haven’t made any new friends. Definitely not that older girl you were hoping I would meet. Did get my ass kicked in the men’s locker room, though! Then got strung up and died. So, sorry about that! Love you!_

_Cloud_

“They’re going to _know_ , dude! He took a bite out of your cheek!”

“Trust me. They’ll never even look into it. Everyone at Shinra hates paperwork, and everyone knows he’s a quiet weirdo. No one will bat an eye at ‘suicide’ and his poor mama will get a formal letter and no life insurance money.”

 _Bastard_ , thought Cloud coldly, but his mouth betrayed his anger, twisting it to fear.

“Ma,” He whispered aloud, even as he felt burly arms wrap around him. Hoist him in the middle like a bag of sand.

“Dude,” one of the guys laughed, “sad.”

Cloud fumbled, blinked bleary eyes. Reached up as he felt something cold slip around his neck.

The guy holding him around the middle let go.

The strap around his neck snapped tight in a heartbeat. The fuzz in Cloud’s mind vanished, replaced with a blinding panic. He jolted. Thrashed. Twisted. Lifted his hands to scramble at the strap as he gagged, his body instinctively fighting to breathe. His feet lashed out, kicking against the hollow metal wall with a desperate crashing sound.

“Dude, too loud.” One of the troopers said. 

Cloud felt those hands again. Tried to beg. Tried to scream. All that escaped his throat were desperate, wet sounds. He twisted. Struggled to look down, to make eye contact, to—

The guy grabbed his legs to keep him still, and leaned his weight on Cloud as well, cutting off the very last dregs of air.

Cloud’s fingers could get past his skin to curl under the strap. He dug at his own throat, trying to get the leather strap off, trying for just one more breath. The pressure was unbearable. Pounding behind his eyes. His head was going to explode. Before he suffocated his head was going to—

He lashed out. Tried to at least get another hit in before he bit it. Tried to claw at the wall— at the troopers— at anything that might leave some more mark that he hadn’t gone quietly. He hadn’t—

“Ow, _fuck!_ ”

Got one of their eyes, he thought with a flash of pride, scrambling at the solid, smooth metal at his back, thrashing as the man who’d been holding his legs pulled back, holding a bleeding eye.

The rope, he reminded himself desperately. The strap. Air. Get it—

He reached for it. Struggled and scrambled, fingers going numb. He gripped at the strap behind his neck, strained to lift himself, just an inch, tried anything to just— just get one breath, just— 

“Fucking _die_ you stupid—”

The door opened. Cloud’s eyes darted to it immediately, certain beyond anything that this would be it. This would be what did him in. This was the last thing he’d see, though his teary eyes and his pounding head, and — _oh, gods, please, I can’t breathe—_

Sephiroth did not speak. He did not say a word. He stood in the doorway for a long moment. Cloud heard one of the men who’d attacked him stutter out the first syllable of his name.

Then the figure in the door was gone and—

Cloud choked out the closest thing to a scream he could as hot arterial blood sprayed the side of his face. He struggled. Kicked. Strangled for a breath as two screams were suddenly cut short. For a moment, he was certain that that silver flashing— _gods, was it his sword?—_ would come for him and he was going to— 

“Easy.” Said a low voice.

The silver flashed again, and Cloud thought, for just a moment, _thank the gods. It’s over. This will be fast._

Then he was dropping into the crook of a waiting arm. Lowered gently to the floor. He blinked teary eyes, mouth gaping open desperately.

Sephiroth’s fingers pried the leather loose from around his throat. Cloud gasped in air. Choked. Coughed. Scrambled. His hands found anchor wherever they could. On Sephiroth, he was distantly aware. His fingers locked around one of the leather lapels of his jacket. His other hand clung tight to his back, his hair, his shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

Breathing hurt. He kept breathing.

“Easy.” That voice repeated. Sephiroth’s voice. His hand pulled the leather strap away from Cloud’s throat, freeing him. Cloud twisted. Aware of the knee against his back keeping him upright. Of the hands on him. Of the two dead men on the floor.

“I hope you’re Cloud Strife.” Sephiroth said, almost idly. “Otherwise I may have made an error.”

“Wh-What?” Cloud choked out. His head was swimming. His hearing warped and wavered. The world was grey, edging on red, and Sephiroth’s eyes looked down at him cool and calm, and there was blood everywhere. There was blood on the ceiling…

“Hm.” Sephiroth replied. “Hang in there, Trooper.”

Cloud only had a moment to wonder if that was a fucking _pun_ before Sephiroth was lifting him. It wasn’t rough, but it was enough to send him over the edge. Out of consciousness. Goodbye world.

He wasn't asleep. He always dreamed when he slept. No. This was just a gap. Nothing, and then blinking his eyes open, staring up at a ceiling that was not splattered in blood.

“What do you mean you ‘just happened to be there?’ Since when do you wander around in the Trooper locker rooms?” A booming voice was asking in the other room.

“I heard a disruption, I intervened.”

“And murdered two _—_ ”

“Prevented a murder.”

“By killing two _—”_

“Hey.” Said a voice that was much closer. “You awake?”

Cloud blinked up at the ceiling that didn’t have any blood on it. Slid his eyes down to the person sitting near him. His vision swam. His head felt attached wrong. The blur of a face smiled at him, so bright that Cloud could make it out through his squinting, watery eyes.

“Wh—” Cloud’s voice gave out on him at once in a crack. Fizzled into nothing but wheezing. He had a momentary lurch of terror. Scrambled a hand up to his neck. Tried to feel for the noose against his flesh.

“Hey, it's okay. You're okay” The person near him said. “Sephiroth says you had a rough time of it.”

Sephiroth. Right. Right. He’d been—

He groaned softly, his hand twitching up to hide his face.

“Hurts?” Guessed the guy beside him.

“E-” Cloud swallowed hard. Heard the guy reach over his head and crack open a water bottle. “Embarrassing.”

“What?” The guy asked, a startled laugh escaping him. “That’s what you’re worried about? Here, dude, drink some.”

Cloud let his hand drop off his face. Blinked at the stranger, trying to will his eyes to clear. Dark hair. Smile as huge as it had looked before. Bright eyes. Holding water.

Cloud reached for it numbly. Almost dropped it. When he moved to sit up his head throbbed so badly that it traveled through his whole body.

“Ah, good.” The booming voice from before said, significantly closer now and significantly less booming. “You’re up.”

Cloud cut a glance that way, squinting past the discomfort in his head, still drinking, and promptly choked. The smiling guy sitting by him laughed, guileless and surprised as he took a sudden unexpected shower in Cloud’s spit.

Angeal Hewley, Soldier First Class, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and that serious stone-like expression on his face observing Cloud like he was a situation to be handled. Over his shoulder Cloud saw him. Silver hair. Green eyes. Sephiroth was watching him with the strangest expression on his face. Cloud’s mouth dropped open, trying to say thank you, or ‘what did you do’ or something. Anything. But then Sephiroth was gone.

“Quite a scare.” Said Angeal, walking over as if he had half-dead troopers on his sofa every day. “You in one piece?”

“Uh,” Cloud tore his eyes off of the space where Sephiroth had been. “S-sir, I…”

“No need to be nervous!” The smiling guy beside him said. “His face is just like that cuz he’s worried. Right, Angeal?”

“Don’t push it, puppy. How’s your head, kid?”

Cloud struggled to find an answer.

“Dumb.” He offered after a second.

“Yeah.” Angeal said with a sage nod. “Oxygen deprivation does that to you. Just rest up here for a while. Zack”— he patted the smiling guy on the shoulder— “is going to keep an eye on you, and I’m going to talk to some higher ups. See what to do about this whole situation.”

“He killed them.” Cloud said, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the blood. “Didn’t he.”

“Ah.” Angeal paused in turning to go. Crossed his arms and looked down at the floor. “Yes. That’s just… How he is.”

“Though it looks like you scored blood too.” Zack pointed out approvingly, tapping Cloud’s hand.

“Oh.” Cloud blinked. Tried to remember. “One of their eyes.”

“Nice.” Zack praised. “I’m Zack. On my way to First Class. You?”

“Cloud.” He replied. “Just a trooper.”

“No way.” Said Zack, waving his hand. “You’ve got guts. I can tell. Right Angeal?”

“I’m on the phone, puppy.”

“Did…” Cloud hesitated. Swallowed. “Did Sephiroth… Say anything?”

Zack blinked at him. Hummed in thought, tilting his head. “I mean, I was sort of busy with him carrying you in covered in blood, but… He said something like ‘keep an eye on him’ or ‘make sure he’s safe’ or something? Why? You two friends?”

“No,” said Cloud, thinking of those green eyes filling his world as his vision went grey. “Nothing like that. I don’t really… have…”

Don’t say _that_ , he told his brain as soon as he realized where it was going. But gods it was fuzzed, and he felt slow and stupid and _so tired._

“No time like now to start.” Zack said. Cloud blinked his stinging eyes as Zack reached forward and ruffled his hair.

“Get some sleep, Cloud.” He advised. “We can chat lots once you’re not, like, dying. You’ve already had a couple potions, so you should be right as rain after sleeping.”

“Sorry for the trouble.” Cloud murmured, letting his eyes fall closed. It was a lot easier than fighting to keep them open. He was tired of fighting…

“Seriously?” Zack’s voice laughed, his voice chasing Cloud into his dreams. “Angeal, I think Cloud just apologized for breathing.”

Then he was gone.

 _We’re out of time,_ said the blank-eyed Cloud of his dreams.

Cloud slept. And just like every night, he trained endlessly as he slept. Driven onwards by a version of himself he did not recognize.


	3. Pick Who Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth dreams...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains warnings for implied canonical character death and some mild gore.

* * *

“You could have warned me.” Sephiroth said flatly the moment he was certain he was dreaming.

“Oh?” He had the Other’s full attention at once. Felt the weight of his gaze like a physical force. “You found him, then?”

“Yes. Nearly dead in the trooper locker room. And now I’ve created more paperwork for myself by intervening.”

“Nearly dead?” The Other asked. Concern in his voice? No. interest? He wasn’t sure.

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

“This was the first change.” The Other responded, but it was offhanded. He was looking up at the empty sky, considering. “You saved him?”

“Yes.”

“Good. _Very_ good.”

There was something in the way he said it. The almost purring quality. It made Sephiroth feel…

Once a string of Marlboro slime had gotten beneath his leather jacket, tracing down his spine. He shifted, trying to shake the physical sensation of the memory.

“Is he in the apartment with you?” The Other asked abruptly.

“No.” Sephiroth replied, his brows furrowing. “I took him to Angeal.”

“Angeal?” The Other sneered. Scoffed. “Why not take him home?”

“Angeal is— “ Sephiroth hesitated. Frowned, staring up at the vision of his future self. “I would not have known what to do with him.”

“Pity,” the Other murmured. “If you felt as I do now… Well. No matter. It’s good you saved him. If it happens again, take him home. The closer he is to you, the better. Invite him to your bed if it pleases you. It would please him.”

Sephiroth looked away. Swallowed back the feeling of queasiness it brought up in him. The Other sighed, tilting his head as he looked down on him.

“Forgive me.” He said, his voice more recognizable as Sephiroth's without the sound of a smile. “I had forgotten how averse to pleasure you would be at this point in your life.”

Sephiroth did not respond. He didn’t want to consider that.

“What now?” He asked instead.

“First and foremost, keep Cloud close.” The Other replied. “As close as you are comfortable keeping him, I suppose. Aside of that we must begin to work on destabilizing Shinra.”

“What?” Sephiroth blinked. Shook his head. Lifted his glare to the Other. “I need explanations. Not just instruction.”

“Too much knowledge would only disrupt your path.” The Other said. “Some circumstances must remain. But then you _are_ me. Ask. I will answer what I can.”

“Why the trooper?” Sephiroth asked. “What does he offer that I could need? Between Genesis, Angeal, and myself—”

“You must stop thinking of them.” The Other said, his face falling towards something like pity. “Think only of Cloud.”

“He is a stranger to me,” Sephiroth shook his head. Frowning up at his future self. “Not even a Soldier. Am I to believe he becomes more important than my—”

“They are not your friends.” The Other said, hovering closer, the wing curling at his back, his coiling hair billowing in the unseen currents that held him aloft.

Sephiroth opened his mouth to respond, but the Other reached out. Placed a gloved hand over his mouth, silencing him. Gestured with his free hand. The world changed around them. Black-red with blood. Sephiroth turned to look.

He stared. His eyes darted across the scene with ever increasing stressful jerks, left to right and back again. His breathing picked up, heavy behind the Other’s hand.

Genesis’s blank eyes were fixed on him, his body collapsed, his neck twisted towards him. Stripes of grey colored his hair. His lips were parted, blood dripping sluggishly. Collapsed over him, the bulk of Angeal’s body cut nearly in half by his own Buster sword. Angeal’s eyes were closed, the look on his face one of sorrow rather than hatred. Beside them, the corpse of Angeal’s so-called puppy, shot to shreds. And Lazard’s corpse. And there were Soldiers. Soldiers dead all around them. Faceless, though he knew his Soldiers. Every one. Their names, their ranks…

He thought, for a moment, that perhaps this was proof. That it proved this a lie. But he knew, because they were the same person. He knew. They were faceless because they didn’t matter. None of them mattered.

“They are already corpses.” The Other whispered, his mouth almost touching Sephiroth’s ear as he spoke. “All but Cloud.”

Sephiroth’s eyes took in every detail, wild with panic. With fear. With numb hands he knocked the Other’s hand away from his face. Went to the pile of bodies. Knelt by their side in the fetid blood, as if he could help. Genesis’s eyes did not follow him. Angeal did not stir. Zack lay in ruin. Sephiroth's hand was shaking as he reached it out towards his friends, even as the dream started to fray around him.

“Don’t mourn them.” 

The Other’s voice was close behind him. A gloved hand rested on Sephiroth’s shoulder, then slowly slid forward. Traced down his bare chest, closing him in something too cold to be a hug, too possessive to be anything else. 

“Traitors. Down to the very last of them. They will turn on you.”

Sephiroth touched Genesis’s cheek. It crumbled under his touch like burned-out wood.

“You have no friends here, Sephiroth. Except, I suppose, for me.”

Sephiroth watched them crumble. Watched the damage he’d done to Genesis’s face crumble him inch by inch. Watched it spread to Angeal, then to Zack, then to all of them. Leaving only blood and ash.

The Other’s voice followed him to waking.

“But don’t worry. Soon I will show you something much, much more wonderful.”

Sephiroth woke gasping. The hum of the air conditioning filled the air, the low murmur of life surrounding him in the building. He was shaking. Sweating. He hadn’t woken like this since he was a child. 

None of it drowned out the last whisper of the Other.

_We will be so happy._

He sat up slowly, feeling every inch of his body like a stranger wrapped around him. Took slow, steady breaths. 

He remembered seeing a glass blower, once. While he walked through a city in Wutai. While people parted like waves to avoid him. He’d stopped to watch. Seen how thin the glass was. How precarious.

He remembered how he’d jumped, when the man startled at his presence and broke the thin, hot glass.

He remembered how Genesis had laughed.

He jolted out of bed as if pulled. Dressed mechanically. Left his sword. Went down a floor. He felt— He—

He didn’t knock. Just swiped his key card. Walked inside. The apartment was dark. Lavish and modern, as all of Shinra was, but better adjusted for reality. No black, gleaming walls here. Tasteful cream. Bookshelves along the non-windowed wall. A long couch. Armchairs at each end. Low table in the center. The record player tucked neatly into a corner, by the rack of fine wines. An apartment made for entertaining. For company. For—

Genesis was asleep. Sephiroth understood that in theory. But as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, too numb to care that it was strange to be watching, he couldn’t pry the image of a corpse away from him. Couldn’t reconcile the image of a dead man with graying hair with the silk pajamas and tousled bedhead and eye mask. Couldn’t shake the image of a splayed, twisted body. 

“I know you’re there, Sephiroth.”

He spoke, Sephiroth told himself internally, his arms crossed tight over his chest, trying to hold himself together. You see? He spoke. He’s not dead.

_Yet._

“What are you doing?” Genesis yawned as he mumbled. Lifted a hand to push his eye mask off and level a glare at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth didn’t know what Genesis saw there. He only knew that annoyance and disgust faded into confusion on Genesis’s face. Only knew that halfway through the rough motion of shoving off the mask, he slowed and gentled the sweep of his arm, till he was carefully setting it aside.

“Did something happen?” Genesis asked. “Are we being deployed?”

Sephiroth shook his head. He didn’t trust his voice. He wasn’t sure if he would laugh or scream. He wasn’t sure if he could make a sound at all.

_Traitors_ the Other had said. _Corpses._

Genesis hovered in bed. Uncertain. Then he heaved a sigh. Rolled his shoulders. Swung his feet out of bed.

“Well, _I’m_ making coffee.” Genesis declared, pulling on a robe over his pajamas. Detailed patterns of dots and lines, creating whorls and shapes across the fabric. Sephiroth’s eyes traced them. Better than looking at his face. His hair. Remembering—

“Come on.” Genesis said, shoving on Sephiroth’s shoulder. He hadn’t realized he’d skipped attaching his pauldrons till Genesis’s hand was on him. Shoving him towards the kitchen. He felt real. Solid. Sephiroth let himself be pushed. Pushed back, just a little, to test the reality.

“Really,” Genesis huffed, dropping the touch as soon as he’d bullied Sephiroth into the breakfast nook. “If you were going to get weirder, I thought it would happen while we were at war. Leave it to you to pick a strange time to get stranger.”

Sephiroth didn’t have it in him to play. To joke back. To offer some pithy quip of his own. He kept his arms crossed. Hoped it hid how he couldn’t stop shaking.

“Sit.” Genesis instructed, glancing over at him. “You’re creeping me out.”

“Genesis.”

His voice didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound like himself or the Other. It sounded— felt— small. Childish.

“Yes?” 

Genesis’s eyes were bright enough, when he blinked them at Sephiroth. They studied him like anyone's living eyes would. He thought of Angeal, just the night before, yelling about the dead troopers downstairs. Thought of Zack, and the stars in his eyes when he looked up at Sephiroth over Cloud's bloodied form. That worshipful look he hated so much.

“Are we friends?” Sephiroth asked, almost abandoning the question halfway through. Unable to think of anything but the dream. Or, not dream, the vision. The reality. The future. He didn’t know.

“Are you serious?” Genesis snapped, turning on him like a wildcat. “You break into my apartment at four thirty in the morning to watch me sleep, refuse to speak to me, and want to know if we’re _friends?_ ”

He threw his hands in the air, and Sephiroth felt a sick certainty. Here it comes. Here’s the betrayal, here’s the truth, here’s—

“Of _course_ we’re friends!” Genesis was yelling. “If we weren’t I’d have thrown you out without a second thought instead of _making you coffee!_ ”

He slammed the mug down too hard. Sephiroth heard some internal ceramic crack. It wouldn’t hold together long. He blinked at it. At the other mug beside it. Let a small smile touch his face.

“That one’s broken.” He said, pushing his luck.

“You’re going to drink out of it and you’re going to like it.” Genesis said, turning his back on him. He grabbed the freshly brewed cup of coffee, then hesitated. Grated out a sound of annoyance and yanked his cabinet open, pulling free a second mug.

“You don’t have to.”

“You shut up.” Genesis cut a glare in his direction, blue and piercing. “‘ _Are we friends_.’ I can’t believe you.”

Sephiroth accepted the mug of coffee without further complaint. Sipped the hot liquid. Felt it release something tight in his chest.

“Do you…” Genesis trailed off. Clenched his jaw. Sephiroth waited, watching, readying himself once more for the slap in the face. The inevitable betrayal.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Genesis muttered, eyes fixed down in his own mug of coffee rather than looking at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth watched him a moment. The lazy graze with which he half-slumped in his chair, leaned back, legs crossed, eyes on his own reflection in his drink.

“No.” He replied, looking down at the mug of coffee in his hands and realizing that they weren’t shaking anymore. “I’m fine.”

“Thank the Goddess.” Genesis sighed, sinking another inch down in his chair.

Maybe he was wrong, Sephiroth thought, letting silence fall over the dinner nook table. Maybe he was lying.

But Sephiroth knew himself too well to really believe that. The corpses were still there in his mind. He could feel them. Rotting and moldering inside him. Waiting to happen.

_Maybe_ , he thought, taking an uneasy sip of coffee as Genesis wiped his hand down his face. _Maybe I could at least save one._

_But…_

“Do you want breakfast too?” Genesis asked with a sigh. “You know I’m no Angeal, but I can make us eggs. _If_ you promise not to tell anyone about my slippers.”

_Which one?_


	4. Manhandled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just once, it would be nice if things went according to plan.

* * *

“So this is—”

“A great idea? I know.”

“—Breaking and entering.”

“Genesis said it was a great idea.”

“Genesis said ‘turnabout is fair play.’ I don’t think that equates with ‘good idea,’ Zack.”

He didn’t know how it happened. He certainly hadn’t _intended_ it to happen. The last thing he wanted was to make more of a mess than he’d already made.

_'Stop saying you ‘made a mess,’ Spike, some guys tried to kill you.’_

But after waking up in Angeal’s apartment, he just… Hadn’t left yet. Angeal hadn’t asked him to. Zack had brought up his stuff from downstairs. He’d had two days off from work, and then he’d gone back to it. Everyone acted like nothing had happened. According to Angeal, officially nothing had. Some janitors got paid extra to clean up the locker room that night, and some security footage was erased.

Cloud thought about what the troopers had said, about people at Shinra hating paperwork. How they’d have declared it a suicide.

He had to admit it rang true.

So he hadn’t put up much resistance when Angeal said ‘just stay for a while. I have space.’ And he hadn’t put up any resistance when Zack said “I could teach you some tricks!” He had objected when Genesis had shown up, clucking “This is the trooper everyone’s crowing about?”

“Crowing?”

“Oh, they’re all preening themselves for having ‘discovered’ you. Name?”

“Cloud Strife.”

“Loveless?”

“What? No. What?”

“Do you know it?”

“The avenue or the play?”

“The book.”

“What?”

“He’s useless.” Genesis had decreed, casting a lofty glance to Angeal.

“Asshole.” Cloud had snapped immediately, forgetting his rank.

Genesis had cast him an arch look through piercing blue eyes. Had flicked the hair out of his face and bent closer. Cloud had held ramrod straight, refusing to shrink away.

“What was that?”

“Asshole, sir.”

“Hm. Alright. _Mostly_ useless. Perhaps he can learn.”

Cloud blinked back to reality as they stopped in front of the elevator. Zack was humming as he fished Genesis’s key card out of his pocket.

“This is really a bad idea.” Cloud said flatly.

“Sephiroth won’t mind.” Zack said with a wave of his hand as he punched the button for Sephiroth’s floor. “And your mom told you to get him a gift basket, right? We’re just doing what your mom said.”

“Pretty sure she didn’t say ‘break into his apartment while he’s at work and leave a gift basket.’”

“Only because she doesn’t know all the details.” Zack pointed out, stepping off into the hallway ahead of Cloud. “Come on, no one else lives up here, so you don’t have to try to sneak, Spike.”

Cloud sighed, glancing down at the basket. At least Genesis had helped him pick one. Chocolate through and through. Apparently Sephiroth’s favorite. Cloud had been suspicious. Genesis had been offended.

“Right!” Zack said. “Operation ‘thank you for saving my life’ is a go!”

“If he wanted to talk to me he would have.” Cloud muttered.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Zack said, waving a hand as he unlocked Sephiroth’s door with a swipe of Genesis’s keycard. “Sephiroth’s just like… That…”

Cloud peered around Zack’s shoulder. Shoved him a little to get a better look.

Masamune was stabbed through the table in the center of the room. With a note stuck on it.

“What?” Zack muttered, walking closer. “Did he kidnap himself?”

Cloud dropped the hefty basket of chocolates on the table beside it. Reaching to take the note as Zack circled the apartment, looking for signs of a struggle.

“Um.” Cloud said, staring down at the page. “We… Should call Genesis and Angeal.”

* * *

Sephiroth had had worse days. He reminded himself of this firmly as he stared at the sliced ribbons of his hair on the floor. He had expected the rough treatment. Expected those who wanted revenge, spitting on his face where he knelt, taking the opportunity to land a punch that they never could have were he not willingly kneeling. It was the hair that really annoyed him.

_Destabilize Shinra_ indeed. It was a fool’s errand, and he was beginning to wish he hadn’t tried. But he was curious.

_‘Oh, you’re done moping?’ the Other had laughed. ‘Then we can begin again, I suppose. I’d suggest you start with Avalanche. They have ties in interesting places. A certain young vice president supplies a significant amount of their funding.’_

Another stranger in Avalanche clothing approached daringly. Hauled back. Punched Sephiroth in his cheek. Sephiroth coolly spat the mouthful of blood that followed and turned his gaze back to the door, waiting with fast-waning patience for the current leader of Avalanche to approach. He knew it wouldn’t be Elfe. Her chapter in the organization was already over. Theoretically ending with her death. Theoretically.

He didn’t know who was in charge now. In fact, from the muttered conversations that the Avalanche memes thought he was too far away to hear, there was some question about that within the ranks. He’d been interested enough in the whispers to deal with the abuse. But his _hair_.

“Well, well, well.” Said a voice behind him. Unfamiliar. Great. Someone else coming to gloat. If one more person said ‘you’re a long way from Shinra’ or ‘you have no idea what you’ve gotten into’ he was going to scream.

“Look who we found scrounging around. So much for coming alone!”

Sephiroth twisted, brows furrowing, mouth open to call the man an idiot for hauling some stranger in as ‘proof’ of his treachery.

But his words were swept away with a twisting, bewildered shock as he saw who was being hauled in.

“Oh,” said Cloud. “Hey.”

The man behind him shoved the trooper to his knees at Sephiroth’s side, rough enough that the young man face-planted— His hands were bound behind his back, unable to catch him.

“Ow.” The Trooper muttered, glaring up at the Avalanche member.

“Explain this!” The masked man demanded, pointing down at Cloud, even as he huffed out a breath and sat up on his knees.

“Did they break your nose?” Cloud was asking, completely ignoring the furious Avalanche member.

“Maybe.” Sephiroth looked him over. Roughly handled, bruised and battered, but not badly hurt. So much for his plan. Looked like he’d have to save a trooper instead of making allies in Avalanche.

“Sucks.” Cloud commented, with a surprisingly resigned and relaxed air about him.

“Hey!” Yelled the Avalanche member.

“If this was a rescue attempt,” Sephiroth said, twisting his hands in their bindings, waking them up before breaking free, “it does not appear to have gone according to plan.”

“Oh, no, it did.” Cloud said with a shrug. 

“Really. This is the plan?”

“Are you in any position to criticize? You stabbed your own table.”

“Hey!” Barked the Avalanche soldier. He reached out. Grabbed Sephiroth by his hair, dragging him closer with a grunt of pain. “I’m talking to—”

Cloud launched forward. Slammed his shoulder into the Avalanche member’s elbow. There was a sharp crack.

The man screamed and released Sephiroth’s hair.

“Touch him again.” Cloud challenged, crouched before Sephiroth, looking ready to kill.

They really should have bound his legs, thought Sephiroth. An automatic evaluation of the situation. Beyond that layer of cool pragmatism, something warm pooled inside him. Made him feel warmer. Clearer. Breathless.

It was a terrible move, strategically. And for the trooper’s longevity. He should have been annoyed, or concerned, or…

He certainly shouldn’t have been breathless.

“Son of a bitch!” The Avalanche member was yelling, fumbling with his other hand while other members of the organization closed in, guns up.

Right, Sephiroth reminded himself. Out of time. He started pulling against the cuffs.

Just outside the door, something exploded.

“We should get down.” Cloud said, as if it was conversational.

Sephiroth broke the cuffs and dragged the trooper beneath himself, just as the door collapsed inwards and all hell broke loose.

“Did I mention I was the distraction?” Cloud asked from underneath him.

“Is this supposed to be payback for before?” Sephiroth asked, over the din of gunfire and screaming.

“I mean, I’m only a fourth of the rescue team.” Cloud said with a stiff shrug, his hands still bound behind his back and now trapped beneath him. “So we’ll call it an installment. Could you have broken those cuffs any time?”

“Of course.”

“Right.”

“Who else is—”

“Zack, Genesis, Angeal. Who else?”

“Who else indeed. How did you get stuck with the mission?”

“What mission?”

“I assume Shinra sent you after me.”

“What? No. Zack and I found your note.”

“My— Why were you in—”

“Hey, shouldn't you help fight if you’re free?”

“And leave you like a turtle on your back?"

“I could stand up if you weren’t on top of me.”

“Maybe I’d just rather stay here instead of rescuing you again.”

“Ugh.”

There was color high in Cloud's cheeks. He kept trying to squirm to look at the fight instead of Sephiroth. _Invite him to your bed if it pleases you. It would please him._

Not now, Sephiroth thought repressively at that memory, turning his own attention harshly to the ongoing fight.

Or what was left of it.

Most of Avalanche had vanished. Now all that remained was—

“Sephiroth,” Angeal held a hand out to him. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Sephiroth replied on automatic, refusing the hand, pushing off of Cloud to sit, shifting his bound legs before himself. “I was fine.”

“Right.” Cloud said, his eyes turning back to Sephiroth now with a flat, disinterested look. “Super fine.”

“Why would you send an unarmed trooper in as bait?” Sephiroth asked, glaring at Angeal rather than responding.

“Your nose is broken.” Angeal muttered in concern. “And he volunteered.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sephiroth informed Cloud.

“At least I didn’t walk into an Avalanche base and leave a suicide note.” Cloud shot back.

“It wasn’t a—”

“Hey!” Zack sprinted up to join them. “Cool! Everyone’s alive! That rules! The Avalanche guys are running, Genesis is trying to set their car on fire. Oh, shit, Sephiroth, your nose is—”

“Broken. I know.” He huffed. Pushing a thumb against the side of his nose, ready to snap it back into place.

“Don’t.” Angeal said, going to one knee before him. “Here.”

Sephiroth froze. More out of surprise than anything. Watching as his— As Angeal pulled out a small knife from his belt. Cut through the bindings on his legs.

“Let me take a look.” Angeal said. “Don’t want you setting it crooked.”

“I’m fine down here.” Cloud said. “For the record.”

“I thought you said you could get up any time you wanted.” Sephiroth muttered, distracted by how closely Angeal was inspecting his injuries. By the feel of his warm hand, just barely touching his chin, turning his face back and forth.

“I gotcha, bud.” Zack said, hauling Cloud up from under his armpits before the Trooper could fire back.

“Alright.” Angeal said. “You two go see if you can find the keys to your cuffs while I take care of this nose situation.”

“On it!” Zack said cheerfully.

“I don’t see how I’m supposed to help with that.” Cloud muttered, but tagged along with barely a stumble.

Angeal was silent for a moment. Held his hands up to Sephiroth’s nose, waiting for him to give an affirming nod before snapping his nose back into place. Sephiroth felt it start to heal at once, and let out a sigh. It was a relief, despite himself.

“What’s going on with you?” Angeal asked softly rather than commenting further. “You’re not acting like yourself, Sephiroth.”

“I’m fine.” Sephiroth said.

“You got captured by Avalanche. On purpose.”

“Just trying to figure out their current leadership structure. Apparently non-existent. They’re not long for the world.”

“Sephiroth—”

“Angeal.” He mocked. But Angeal wasn’t like Genesis. He didn’t rise to the bait. He just crouched before him, his expression stern but patient. Sephiroth hated it.

“What?” He finally muttered, relenting just to end that even stare.

“If something’s wrong, you can talk to us.” Angeal said. “Or… To me, at least. I know Genesis can be… Challenging. But we don’t… I don’t want another ‘goodbye’ note falling into my hands. Alright? I can’t tell you how devastating it would be to us.”

“Yes yes. The world needs a hero and all that.”

“I’m not talking about Shinra, Sephiroth. I’m talking about _us_ . Your friends. You should have seen Zack and Cloud. You should have seen _Genesis_. They were terrified. None of us want you hurt. No matter how important the information is. I don’t care who gave you this little espionage mission, or if we messed something up for your ego. You were hurt, and you were in trouble, and you thought you might die here. You should have come to us. We would have helped.”

“It was a very small chance.” Sephiroth objected, but it felt weak even as he said it. “There’s always a small chance. On every mission.”

Angeal gave him a half-shrug. Stood up and offered his hand down to Sephiroth again.

“I can’t force you to trust us.” He said. “I just want to remind you we’re here.”

Sephiroth reached for his hand. Froze just above it, his fingers twitching. He looked up to Angeal’s face, thinking of a sorrowful corpse. Thinking of— 

“I don’t bite.” Angeal said, lifting one brow.

_Yet_.

Sephiroth took the hand. Let Angeal haul him up out of the rubble. Pulled his hand back quickly after, carding it through his hair, shaking free some more of the cut and torn strands.

“Merciful Goddess,” Genesis stormed across the room, red cape flaring, Rapier still burning in his hand. “What have they done to your _hair!?_ ”

“It’s only hair.” Sephiroth said, stepping back from Genesis’s swipe at his raggedly chopped hair.

“Nose good now?” Zack asked, a now handcuff-free Cloud at his side.

“Why is Cloud here?” Sephiroth asked the group of them, glaring. “He’s unenhanced. He could have been killed.”

“Oh, I thought that was ‘a chance on every mission.’” Cloud replied, brazenly displaying his eavesdropping. “Hands.”

Sephiroth stared at him. At his extended palm and the key in the other hand. Huffed before shoving his hands towards him. He’s snapped the chain, but the cuffs were still stubbornly attached. Genesis stole the opportunity to push some of Sephiroth’s hair back, tisking.

“Well, they left enough to work with. I can take care of it for you once we’re back home. I already do mine and Angeal’s.”

“Hey!” Zack objected. “You’ve never offered to do my hair!”

“And I won’t.” Genesis muttered.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Sephiroth thought. Cloud’s hands were shaking despite his annoyed expression and his dry, sarcastic tone. Genesis’s hand was gentle, almost ruffling his hair more than inspecting it. Zack was fidgety, the tip of his training sword dripping the blood he’d spilled in Sephiroth’s defense. Angeal was still watching him, arms crossed.

“You didn’t have to come.” Sephiroth muttered.

“Well, we did.” Angeal replied. “And will again. So next time just tell us ahead of time.”

_Don’t do this to me,_ Sephiroth begged internally, letting his eyes fall closed to escape their worried faces. _Don’t be so…_

“You okay?” Zack’s voice. Soft and worried.

“Just a migraine.” Sephiroth lied.

“Let’s get you home.” Angeal said. “I’ll make dinner. You’re skipping meals again. Don’t think I can’t tell.”

Cloud unlocked the second manacle, letting it fall. Sephiroth forgot to take his hand back from him for a long moment. Inhaled deeply as the trooper squeezed his wrist. Just once. Almost affectionately.

“I should—”

“Dinner.” Genesis echoed, grabbing his arm and starting to drag him away from the ruined building. Sephiroth pulled his hand back, but…

He followed.

“You still haven’t explained why Cloud was here.” He mentioned as they waited for the train back up to the plate.

“Oh,” Zack said. “That’s cuz I’ve taken him under my wing!”

“You have?” Cloud asked, looking mildly alarmed.

Angeal pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t have a wing to be under, _puppy_.”

“Aw, ‘Geal!”

This isn’t fair, Sephiroth thought, keeping his eyes fixed on the train tracks. It’s not fair. I can’t— I won’t lose them.

If the Other had, fine. He had come back to improve his future, had he not? So Sephiroth would improve it. He would not allow his friends to fall. He would just have to find a way to stop it.

* * *

It wasn’t until the next day that Tseng walked into his office, impeccable and cold. He held out a letter without speaking, his eyes appraising and unflinching as he stared at Sephiroth.

“If I may ask,” He said as Sephiroth took the note. “Where was our security lacking, for you to find out?”

Sephiroth took the letter from Rufus Shinra and read it quickly, committing it to memory before setting it on fire.

“It wasn’t.” He said, meeting Tseng’s gaze. “There is simply nothing I cannot do.”

“We’ll be in touch.” Tseng said with a bow. “Please try not to let your friends kill any more Avalanche operatives. We are moving beyond the need for them as it is. Oh. And Reno asked that I pass along his appreciate of the ‘new look.’”

Sephiroth didn’t need a Turk’s validation. Obviously. But he pushed a hand back through the hair that Genesis had ‘fixed up’ for him the night before, and had to agree.

If nothing else, he found it was a strange relief to look a little less like the Other.

* * *

One floor below, on the couch that Cloud now considered his bed, Cloud looked down at the sad sheet of paper, torn from where Masamune had impaled it. At the neat words written on it.

“If you are reading this, Avalanche has killed me. Sorry for the trouble. Help yourself to my things. — Sephiroth.”

He read it through twice more, eyes narrowed. He hadn’t told the others he’d kept it. But he didn’t want Angeal to keep it. It had broken his heart. And he didn’t want Genesis to. The man had nearly thrown a fit. And Zack had looked so…  
  
So Cloud had tucked it in his pocket when they were all busy. He tucked it back there now, and rubbed the back of his neck. He really shouldn’t get involved. He was bad at stuff like this. But…

‘Sorry for the trouble.’

_Angeal, I think Cloud just apologized for breathing._

Maybe just a little involved, he promised himself, flopping down on the sofa and hoping that Sephiroth had at least enjoyed the chocolate.

* * *

Bonus Illustration:


	5. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud doesn't know how he ended up here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains confinement and a deteriorating mental state

It had been

Five

No

Seven? Six.

Days,

He thought.

Since the— 

Since—

_Breathe through it. Live through it. You have before. You must again._

Shinra hated— 

Hated paperwork and— 

No one would—

Would report this, so—

Six days, and—

Soon forever, and—

Cloud stood up in his prison and paced the walls again. Tried to draw in enough breath to stay calm. Tried to stop his mind from repeating, and repeating and—

Six

Days

And—

_You don’t even know it’s been six days_ he told himself coldly, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. Just for a moment. Just for a moment against the constant light. _Six feeding times, and it feels like that happens once a day. You have no proof of that. It’s not like you have a clock._

Six—

And—

It has been—

No one—

No one is coming.

There it was. He stopped his pacing, facing a corner. He didn’t know if it was the front or back corner. The door disappeared when they closed it The walls were glass. Outside them was nothing. He didn’t know if he was in the left or right corner.

No one was coming.

He curled into a ball. Pressed into the corner. Front or back, left or right. 

At least... 

At least small. 

At least…

Stable.

_Hold it together._

Cloud’s eyes slid to the glass beside him, where his reflection huddled. White-eyed and empty— face slack and still.

_Live through it._

“I can’t take it.” Cloud whispered in reply, lifting his hand to his mouth, digging his teeth into the warn cuticles around his nails.

_You have before._ The blank-eyed Cloud said. _You will again._

Cloud shook his head. Bit his finger harder. Squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in his chest. Sorrow, panic, he didn’t know. He couldn’t breathe. He—

_The strap was so tight—_

The Cloud in the reflection didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Only watched as he gasped for breath, chewing on his finger just to have something. Anything. Sensation. Comfort.

Seven—

No—

Six days and—

He was hungry. He tried to count the hours in his hunger. He chewed his finger bloody, and it was more embarrassing than painful. 

It can’t go on much longer, right?

_It can._

I can’t take much more.

_Brace yourself_

Please, I’m not strong enough.

_Then be stronger than you are._

Why me? Why this? What did I do?

_Nothing._

It’s not fair

_No. It isn’t._

Make it stop.

_I can’t. It is unfair. It came to you even younger than to me. But you must live. You have no choice but to live._

The reflection gave terrible pep talks. Cloud tried to close his eyes. Tried to shut it out. He couldn’t sleep. He felt sick with exhaustion, but he couldn’t sleep. The door would open any moment. His teeth chattered when he wasn’t chewing on his finger. He couldn’t relax. The door could open any moment.

He was starting to think this didn’t have anything to do with Soldier, no matter what that Professor said. He couldn’t imagine them doing this to Zack. He couldn’t imagine— 

But Zack was stronger than him. Better than him. He probably laughed the days away. Probably lasted and lasted and lasted.

Or, probably—

More probably—

Yes, it was—

Angeal probably wouldn’t have let them.

Not for days.

Not like this.

Not Zack.

So why hadn’t—

Six days, he guessed, and eighteen injections

— that he remembered— 

And the first touch

Of mako

On his skin

_It had burned_.

He didn’t feel stronger.

_Train._

Not now. Go away.

_There is no time._

I’m tired. Leave me alone.

_Cloud—_

Leave me alone.

_Too late._

What?

_He found me._

Who did?

_Live._

And

Silence.

When the door opened again, it was for feeding time. Not breakfast, or lunch, or dinner anymore. When it opened after that, it was for _nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one injections._ And mako in his eyes, and the professor saying ‘interesting’ again, distantly, and then— 

Seven

days

And—

And now—

not even a

reflection

to talk to.


	6. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains bad choices and references to last chapter's confinement.

The days crawled by. He woke. He dressed. He went to work. He was at every meeting. He was fully present. He observed the troops training. He went out on missions. He went to sleep.

The others sought him out. Zack first.  _ “Have you seen Cloud?” _ then Angeal  _ “Did Heideggar mention anything in that last meeting?” _ even Genesis  _ “I thought you knew everything.” _

Sephiroth was not a bad liar by any stretch of the imagination. It usually didn’t matter to him what anyone believed or didn’t believe. But it stung, this time. It stung watching Zack fret, doing squats in the middle of his office, muttering  _ “He already nearly died this year…”  _ and hearing Angeal confess to him in worry  _ “all his things are still in my apartment.”  _ and Genesis’s  _ “Pity. He seemed fun.” _

Sephiroth slipped up into the labs when he could. Moved like a ghost through familiar halls. Checked the monitors. Second ward, medical bay, block four.

Just three rooms away from the surgical machines where Hojo lobotomized unruly test subjects.

“Why are you asking?” Hojo’s voice was tinny on the phone. Derisive and annoyed at the intrusion. “He’s not even one of yours.”

The line went dead before Sephiroth could respond. Just as well. He had no explanation. For putting the trooper in Hojo’s sightline and then second-guessing himself. At least, no explanation that he could  _ give. _

At night he spoke nothing of Cloud unless the Other asked after him. The Other always asked.

“What’s Hojo done to him thus far?”

“According to his notes, mako absorbency tests, something called ‘S-cell’ introduction.”

“Already?” He had chuckled, low and pleased. “Very good.”

“His mental state is deteriorating.” Sephiroth hazarded, watching the Other for any reaction to that.

“To be expected.” The Other said with a wave of his hand. “Don’t look so sad.”

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He’d known the war was wrong too. But he had always done what needed doing. Cloud would survive. The Other was very certain of that. It was not the case for everyone.

“You haven’t told me what to watch for.” He told the Other, as calmly as he could.

“You’ll know it when you see it. Your purpose—”

“Not that.” A misstep. He felt the weight of the Other’s annoyance at being interrupted. Fix it. “I… See your surety. Your confidence. Your power. I do not doubt the strength of whatever calling is in store for me.”

The other relaxed, his wing furling once more. Slid closer through the air, taking Sephiroth’s chin in one hand.

“Are you obsessing again?” He asked in a low purr.

“No.” Sephiroth said flatly. “If you don’t want to discuss it, we won’t. I have news from the destabilization efforts.”

And so on. Night after night. He couldn’t risk the Other’s displeasure when he needed so badly to see his hand. To understand more. Cloud would just have to wait. 

But each day, Angeal and Genesis and Zack were more unhappy. Each day Cloud looked smaller in that empty cell. Each day, cool refusal from the Other to speak of the future of the others. Sephiroth swallowed back bile and refused to let himself falter.

Until…

Angeal had been very quiet recently. A heavy weight had been hanging on him. Zack didn’t do squats in Sephiroth’s office anymore. He didn’t visit at all. He seemed to have withdrawn from many social activities, when Sephiroth checked his schedule. Genesis fired three Troopers for non-existent infractions. When Sephiroth looked into it, all he could find was that they all had families at home.

When he slid into the science department, he saw Cloud rocking in the corner of his cell. When he turned on the microphone inside, he could hear him sobbing.

_Enough_ , he thought, closing his eyes, standing by the control panel, listening to the sobbing. _Enough_.

He did not like to fail a mission. But he could not let this continue.

He went home. He went to bed. The Other was waiting, eager.

“News from the Vice President?” He asked, sounding too amused when he said ‘vice president.’ Sephiroth didn’t know why. He didn’t care.

“Tell me when Genesis and Angeal turn on me.” He said flatly. “I need to know.”

“Obsession with them will lead to ruin. Do I need to remind—”

“I cannot stop thinking about it.” Sephiroth interrupted, plowing over the Other’s words rather than demurring to him. “I need to know what I am looking for. They are already suspicious of me.”

The Other glared at him. His hair billowed in an unseen wind. His eye glared red. That was new, Sephiroth noted with a dull thrum of terror.

“Very well.” The Other said after a long moment of glaring. “But you are fortunate that I am in a good mood. A two on one training session. Angeal suggests the Junon canon. Genesis is wounded. Until then, they will not change. Will you  _ please  _ focus now?”

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Sephiroth said, low and angry, “But you are not my master. You are a potential future. One that was imperfect enough that you felt the need to return. So why, exactly, should I hang on your every word?”

The Other watched him. Grim and angry rather than smiling and laughing. It was an unsettling look. That displeasure. But Sephiroth did not flinch beneath it.

“If you wish to suffer,” the Other said, “then you may suffer. But do not pretend to yourself for a moment that you are wiser or stronger than I. Nothing is as you think,  _ boy _ . And if you are incapable of listening to reason, then suit yourself. I’m content to watch you make yourself suffer until you are ready to listen.”

Sephiroth stood in place straight and stiff. Didn’t flinch at being called ‘boy.’ Didn’t flinch from his future self's anger. Didn’t move at all Until the Other shifted his wing up and away from where it had been settled, displaying what had been previously hidden behind it.

There was a crumpled body behind him. Bloody and bruised.

His eyes were empty. His lips were parted in a vacant expression. But there was no mistaking him.

Sephiroth could have sworn, for just a moment, that he saw Cloud’s lips move.

_ Please. _

Sephiroth woke up gasping. He called Angeal. Three in the morning. Worse even than he’d done to Genesis.   
  
Angeal answered on the second ring, asking “Sephiroth?” In a tone so exhausted and worried that it made Sephiroth’s chest hurt.

“I found Cloud. They’ve taken him to the labs.” He said, and the it tasted like blood.

* * *

Zack called the Turks in to distract Hojo. Which was, apparently, something he could do. Sephiroth led the way.

His hand print wouldn’t have opened the door. Why key something to a person you’d want to trap inside? But Hojo’s override code did. He was glad he hadn’t used it yet.

The door slid open.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered, staring at the Trooper curled in the corner.

It was worse in person. He’d seen him on the monitor, but in person… In person it was too real. Sephiroth took it in in a moment. His bloodied fingers. His hollow face. The dark shadows under his eyes. The absolute shock in his expression when the door opened.

He’d been alone down here for so long.

He took a step towards him, fixated on those huge, desperate eyes. But he hesitated. This was his fault. He couldn’t—

Zack pushed past him. Sephiroth swayed out of his way. Watched him fling himself at Cloud. Wrap him in a hug so tight. Whisper “Hey, Spike” in a quavering voice.

“Zack?” Cloud whispered.

Sephiroth couldn't take his eyes off the way Cloud’s bloody hands shook while they reached up, tangling in Zack’s hair. He held on so tight. He had been so alone…

“Gotcha.” Zack murmured, hugging him tight. “We’re bustin’ you out of here.”

“Zack.” Sephiroth called. “Let’s hurry.”

“Can you?” Zack whispered.

“Yeah. Just... Just a second.”

Sephiroth couldn’t see their faces. He heard the affection. The tenderness. Saw the tension in Cloud’s body as he fought to stand. To unfold his legs. To release his fingers from Zack’s hair.

“Hey. It’s okay. Climb on, okay?”

“I can walk.”

“Of course you can. But you don’t have to. It’s okay.”

Zack shifted. Slid his shoulder under Cloud’s grasping hands. Twisted his body till he could straighten, Cloud on his back.

“Don’t worry.” He murmured, hitching Cloud carefully higher. “Once you’re back on your feet you can carry me around as part of training. Deal?”

“Deal.” Cloud whispered.

Sephiroth stepped back. Gave them room. The moment went by in slow motion. So clear, and sharp, and painful. Like a painting he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Zack’s sorrowful expression. Tight with worry. Cloud’s exhausted face, worn and weary beyond his years. As they passed, Sephiroth reached out. Cloud looked so alone. So afraid. He’d wanted—

He hesitated, inches away from his cheek. From brushing his blond hair from his face. He drew his hand back. Swallowed hard.

_This is your fault_ , he told himself. _This is your fault for thinking you could have it all._

“Let’s hurry.” He murmured. “Angeal’s waiting.”

He brought up the rear. So that he could watch them. Cloud snuck glances back at them as they went, as if reassuring himself that Sephiroth was still there. He seemed to relax each time he saw him. To Sephiroth it felt like swallowing ice cubes.

“We were looking for you.” Zack was saying, and part of Sephiroth wanted to turn around and lock himself in that cell. Never again, he promised himself, as Cloud hugged Zack tighter. As Cloud whispered ‘it’s okay.’ Trying to comfort his friend and mentor when he was the one who’d been locked away for nearly nine days.

Angeal had a bed ready. Not the sofa this time. And water, and tea, and juice. Whichever Cloud wanted. And he’d started meal prep for a proper dinner, but also had toast, or crackers, or soup. Whatever Cloud felt he could handle. Sephiroth hovered, staying in the doorway, letting Zack and Angeal handle this. Genesis texted them all updates. He’d accompanied the Turks to make sure Hojo stayed where he was meant to be.

‘This guy sucks.’ One of his messages read. Sephiroth almost laughed.

All through the evening, as Angeal got him comfortable and fed, as Zack clumsily but earnestly disinfected and bandaged his fingers, Cloud kept sneaking glances at Sephiroth. Making sure he was still there.

* * *

It was very late when Cloud stirred. He shifted with a shallow gasp. The room was dark, but Sephiroth had no trouble seeing the shine of his eyes when he awoke.

“It’s alright.” He said softly. “You’re in Angeal’s apartment. With friends.”

Silence for a moment, then— “Sephiroth?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t see you.”

Ah. Right. Sephiroth flicked on the bedside lamp. Watched the trooper blink and rub his eyes.

“Bad dreams?” Sephiroth asked, watching Cloud take slow, steady breaths.

“Not really.” Cloud muttered. “Just a long time since I had them.”

“Would you like me to bring anything? Water? Pain medication? Some more to eat?”

Cloud was thinner. Unmistakably thinner. He should never have—

“No, I’m okay. Really. I’m just…”

Silence for a long moment. Sephiroth clasped his hands together in his lap to keep from touching.

“Recovering?” He guessed eventually.

“Embarrassed.” Cloud muttered instead. “That’s the second time you’ve had to save my life. We’ve only known each other, like, a month. Guess I owe you… One and three quarters now.”

It should have been funny. It should have been fun. Sephiroth felt sick. He swallowed the taste of metal in his mouth. Took a deep breath through his nose.

_ Make sure Hojo notices Cloud. It’s imperative to improving our future that he be connected to us. _

“Don’t… Count this one.” He said, just on the edge of a plea. “It doesn’t count.”

It was my fault, he didn’t say. He tried to pretend it was to protect the future that the Other promised. But he knew the truth. He was a coward. They would never forgive him.

“You’re sure I can’t bring you anything?”

“No, I’m… Fine. Just… It’s late, right? Why are you here?”

Thank the gods. He could answer this honestly.

“We didn’t want you to be alone. The others work earlier than I do tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“You didn’t want me…” Cloud repeated in a whisper.

The smile he gave Sephiroth was such a fragile thing. Such a startled, pleased thing.

Sephiroth wanted to tear the labs down for it.

“Is that alright?”

“Yeah. I mean— Way more than alright. I’m sorry for the—”

“Zack said not to let you apologize for breathing.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Hm?”

“‘Have all my stuff, sorry for the trouble.’ Ring any bells?”

“I did not say ‘stuff.’ And it was a contingency. None of you were supposed to see it.”

“Still. No room to talk.”

“Hm.” Sephrioth felt a smile tug at his lips despite himself. “No one talks back to me like you do, Cloud Strife.”

The Trooper flushed. Opened his mouth as if he was about to apologize. Shut it again slowly.

“Guess you’ll have to keep me around then.”

Sephiroth's heart was racing. Why was his heart racing? Why did his guilt feel like this? He didn’t understand it. The way he felt about—

“Do you want to sleep?” Sephiroth asked, trying to avoid inspecting that feeling further. “I will keep watch.”

“I… Don’t think I can.” Cloud offered awkwardly. “Is it annoying if I’m awake?”

“Apologies. Breathing.” Sephiroth said in reminder, lifting a brow.

“Ugh.” Cloud replied, heaving a dramatic sigh. Sephiroth’s chuckle startled him.

“I assume you don’t mind company?”

“If you don’t mind staying.”

“Cloud.”

“What? That one’s fair. You have work. You’ll be tired.”

“I don’t mind.” _M_ _ ore than that.  _ “I’d… Like to know you better. Zack and Angeal… Even Genesis. They’re all very fond of you.”

Cloud seemed on the edge of saying something. Seemed like he was about to deride himself again, or doubt it, but he didn’t. Not even for their ongoing joke. Could it be called a joke? Repartee?

“Okay.” He said instead. “There’s not much to know, though. I’m a Soldier washout and a mediocre trooper, but Zack says I’m an okay student."

"Zack says you're 'okay?'"

"Well, no. He says I'm great. But... You know Zack. Anyhow, that’s… About all there is to me.”

“To your job, perhaps. But what about you?"

“Oh. Um… What about me?”

“Whatever you’d like to share. What do you do for fun?”

“Not… Much. I, uh… I— Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes.”  _ Lots of them. _

“I go to dance lessons on Loveless Avenue on Fridays. Ballet, modern… I started to get more fluid in my movements. My drill instructor said I moved like a robot. But now I kinda… Like it.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth blinked. Considered the way he’d seen the Trooper move. Nodded to himself. “I’d like to see that.”

“No way.” Cloud split into a grin. Too brief. He smothered it down quickly.

“Really.”

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Well, now you know my secret passion. So… Do I get a secret too, or is this a one-way street?”

_ I locked you away, _ Sephiroth thought. _ I need you for something, and that’s why I saved your life. No one matters to me unless I need them. I’m afraid of who I’m going to be. I’m afraid of who I am. _

“Nothing so exciting. But I will confess to having briefly attended pottery classes.”

“Pottery? Why’d you stop?”

“I’m terrible at it. And I got my hair caught in the wheel.”

Cloud laughed loud enough to wake Zack, Angeal, and Genesis. Sephiroth heard them stir and awaken out in the apartment. Heard them murmur between themselves. Heard them settle back in. An unvoiced approval of Sephiroth’s role as their new friend’s conversation partner.

_ They can never know, _ Sephiroth reminded himself, reaching out to pat Cloud’s back as the Trooper laughed himself into coughing. He hesitated, realizing he’d forgotten not to touch. Rested his hand on Cloud’s shoulder blade rather than pulling away.

_ I have to keep them safe _ , he reminded himself. He spread his hand. Pressed a little more firmly on Cloud’s back.  _ All of them. _


	7. Please Stop | No More

“Stances, Spike!”

“You’re attacking me with a _sword_.”

“Yeah, and if your stance is weak I’ll bowl you over like— Yeah, like that!”

“Ow.”

“Hey, cheer up! You’re getting better! Much harder to bowl over than you used to be.”

“You just did it by accident.”

“Yeah, but at least I did it by accident while we were sparring and just just standing around! That’s improvement!”

* * *

_“Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess—”_

“Stop. What’s that.”

“This? Loveless.”

“I’m not talking about _Loveless._ I’m talking about your _attitude_. Put some soul into it.”

“Whose soul?”

“You genuinely test my patience, Strife.”

“Turn about is fair play.”

“... Page one, start over.”

“This is the worst.”

* * *

“How’s Zack been doing as a teacher?”

“He’s very enthusiastic, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ Cloud. We’re practically roommates.”

“It just wouldn’t feel right, sir.”

“Suit yourself, _Trooper_.”

“It’s not like we’re really roommates anyway. I’m just a freeloader.”

“Hm… You know, I’m considering getting a spray bottle.”

“For your succulents?”

“For you.”

* * *

“So you guys are all taking turns babysitting me, huh?”

“I believe the plan is to keep an eye on you at least until you make Soldier.”

“That long? You’ll all get sick of me.”

“Your safety is important. We would do the same for each other.”

“Yeah right.”

“You don’t believe that?”

“You ran off to Avalanche and no one’s been babysitting you.”

“Hm. Perhaps they know better than to try.”

“....You really think I’ll get into Soldier?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Now if you’re done complaining, show me your pirouette again. My technique is still lacking.”

* * *

It wasn’t like it was bad, Cloud thought as he stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t like he wasn’t grateful. They didn’t even seem annoyed by it. He just felt like he should be upset. Like he should be better than this.

He let out a sow breath. Ran his hand over the blanket. He was back on his couch, because he’d accepted Angeal’s ‘ _stay here_ ,’ but wouldn’t accept staying on his bed. Not after the first night when he’d been too out of it to understand.

It probably should have scared him. Being alone. He could feel the anxiety tickling at the back of his mind. But Angeal’s apartment was warm and comfortable. Nothing like the labs had been. And gods knew he had enough company these days.

Not that he was complaining. He’d never really had friends before. It was a lot all at once, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t deserve it— after all, all he’d done so far to earn their friendship was almost die— but he couldn’t deny that it was nice. Fun. Zack, and Angeal… Ugh, even Genesis, though he’d be damned if he’d commit any of that book to memory.

And Sephiroth…

He smiled to himself, at to the memory of watching the stony-face First, boots off, practicing pirouettes on Angeal’s hardwood living room in his socks. His roughly-cut flyaway silver hair whipped around his face as he spun. Fell asleep thinking over every line of him, and the soft laugh he’d wrung from him when he’d corrected his posture with a sharp tap on his shoulders.

* * *

“Cloud.”

“Whoa!”

The blank-eyed Cloud from his reflection stared at him. Too close.

“I thought you were—”

Cloud trailed off. Furrowed his brow. Stepped closer to the other him.

“You’re hurt.”

“There’s no time. He’ll be back. You have to know.”

“Know what? To train? I’m training. Zack’s teaching me.”

“Zack.” The blank-eyed reflection blinked. Took a shallow breath. Cloud almost saw something in him. Just for a moment. It made it worse. The crusted blood under his nose. The dark bruises under his blank eyes. The split lip.

“Who did this to you?” Cloud asked. “And how? You’re not… You’re not a dream.”

“No.”

“What are you?”

“I am the only warning you could give yourself. The only head start you have.”

He wavered. Cloud reached out. Steadied him. Felt bunched, shaking muscles under the black clothes he wore.

“Be relentless.” The reflection said, his voice sounding strained. “Be stronger than you are. You have to be. People need you to be.”

“Okay.” Cloud squeezed the other him’s arms. “Maybe you should sit down. You’re hurt.”

“Too late.” The reflection whispered again, like he had in the labs. He lifted his head. Dragged in a breath. “Get behind me.”

He was strong. Stronger than Cloud. Even wounded, he pulled the Trooper behind him like it was nothing. Straightened his sagging shoulders. Stood firm.

The place where they met always seemed empty, but it was there. Indistinct. Cloud had never bothered to look at it before, really. It was just a room, as big as they needed it to be for training. He looked now, if only because his copy was staring so intently.

It gave him a great view as his internal world was fractured. The terrible, sudden absence of half the room. As if it had been slashed apart by something he couldn’t see. The unending void beyond it, twisting and churning and sickening— green and black and red.

“There you are.”

Between one moment and the next Sephiroth was there. Hovering in the green-black-red nothing. He was not right. Something was off. Something was wrong. Cloud felt sick. Took half a step back.

“Are you trying to escape me?” Sephiroth was saying, arms spread, floating closer, arms spread, toes pointed. He did not touch the ground. A monstrous black wing sprouted from one side of his body. Uneven.

The reflection didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Stood between Cloud and the strange vision of Sephiroth.

“You’re the one who wanted to come.” Sephiroth chuckled, sinking towards them, long hair billowing. “You were so torn about it. I had to rip you to shreds just to bring this much with me. But it seems I should have done more than that.”

Between one breath and the next, Sephiroth was right there. Right before them. His smile was so wide. So pleased. So hungry. He backhanded Cloud’s reflection so hard that Cloud heard the crack of bones. The reflection was thrown to the side. Crashed to the ground. Tumbled and rolled.

“No!” Cloud cried, turning and sprinting towards the fallen reflection.

The reflection was fighting to stand. Pushing up off the ground.

“Don’t— Hurt the boy.” The older Cloud was struggling to speak. Slurring. Wounded. “He’s done nothing to you.”

“Protecting yourself?” Sephiroth asked with a chuckle. “What an amusing time to start.”

Cloud had almost reached him. Extended his hand to help his reflection up. But suddenly Sephiroth was _there_ again, even though Cloud hadn’t seen him move. Right in front of him. He grabbed the reflection’s hair. Yanked his head up, watching him gasp hollowly. The reflection’s hands lifted, gripping Sephiroth’s wrist, fingers digging into the leather desperately.

Sephiroth gave a low chuckle. Shook Cloud’s reflection roughly by the hair before kicking him hard in the ribs. Sephiroth laughed as he sent the older Cloud tumbling again, a ragged jumble of limbs.

Cloud’s hand was still extended from trying to reach for his copy. He let fury fuel him. Dragged in a deep breath and grabbed Sephiroth instead. Shoved him as hard as he could, twisting as he did.

But breaking a stance didn’t work if the person you were pushing was floating. Instead he found himself too close. Far too close. Sephiroth’s arm wrapped around his waist. Drew him in closer.

“Cloud.” Sephiroth murmured, his eyes shining and wild. His smile a sensuous curve of perfect, bowed lips. He looked like he wanted to eat Cloud alive. Something red glowed deep in his eyes.

“What a delight to see you like this.” He whispered, for Cloud’s ears only. “Already so brave. Already resisting.”

“Sephiroth!” Screamed Cloud’s reflection. Staggering to his feet, stumbling into a charge

Sephiroth leaned in closer, as if Cloud’s desperate shoving and struggles were nothing to him. Lowered his lips to Cloud’s ear. His breath was cold as he spoke. “But unfortunately, you aren’t mine to play with.”

Cloud flinched and gasped as the great wing beat by his ear. As Sephiroth vanished from his side. He could see him this time. Because, he was sickeningly sure, Sephiroth wanted him to.

Masamune appeared in his hand between one moment and the next.

Cloud’s reflection didn’t stand a chance.

Cloud screamed as the blade struck. Staggered back, clutching at his chest, gasping for breath. The dizzying terror of the moment. As Sephiroth’s sword sank through his reflection’s body, just below his sternum. As Sephiroth lifted him into the air, like a prize.

His reflection. Jerked. Twisted. Kicked. Clutched the blade. Then, all at once, the fight went out of him. He sagged on the end of the sword. His eyes still open, his body bloodless.

“Stop it!” Cloud screamed as Sephiroth lifted the sword higher. Let the reflection slide down it, dragging, inch by inch. The blade where he’d passed was still clean and silver. Unmarked with blood.

“I wanted to keep you as intact as I could.” Sephiroth sighed. “But you are so intent on resisting. On running away and causing trouble.”

He lifted his right hand. Held the sword steady as he caressed the left of Cloud’s face.

“It’s for your own good.” Sephiroth whispered.

“No!” Cloud screamed, staggering to his feet, running forward as fast as he could. “No!”

“Say thank you.” Sephiroth whispered, leaning in close to the impaled reflection’s face, almost kissing.

The reflection’s face shattered where Sephiroth’s hand touched it. The sound of it split the world into pieces.

* * *

“Cloud. Cloud, wake up.”

“No— No more, no—”

“Wake up, Cloud.”

“Ah! A-An-Angeal—”

“You were having a nightmare. Are you— Oh. Oh, hey, it’s okay. It was just a dream. You’re safe, Cloud.”

But Cloud barely heard him. He pressed into Angeal’s shoulder. Clung to him as tight as he could. He couldn’t stop seeing it. That last moment. Watching his reflection’s lips move, obediently, as half his face was shattered to pieces.

_Thank you_.


	8. Support | Enemy to Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth has a sinking feeling about this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Pickup Artist Cloud Strife

Cloud was avoiding him.

Which would have worked better if Sephiroth wasn’t one of the four people working together to ensure Cloud was never alone to be snatched away from them again.

Not that he had really been snatched away before. 

“Hey,” Cloud’s first text had read. “Zack and I are going to catch a movie. Just want to get out of the building for a while.” 

“Have fun,” Sephiroth replied. “Wish him luck with the enhanced hearing.”

“Earplugs” Cloud said, with four ear emoticons on each side of the word.

Sephiroth chuckled and thought no more of it. Until the next day, when—

“Hey,” a text again, “I’m really tired. Just heading back to Angeal’s to sleep. He’s there, so no need to come by. Sorry.”

And that was the first time the thought pulsed through him in terror. 

_He knows_.

Then it was ‘Training late with Zack tonight.’ Then it was ‘Angeal’s taking me for endurance training,” Then “Genesis insists we see Loveless.” And each night, it twisted deeper. _He knows, he knows, he knows._

_He’ll tell them._

“So?” Said the Other at night, laughing. “Let him. What would they do?” 

The Other had built himself a chair in Sephiroth’s mind. No. Less a chair. More a throne. Silver and shining. Raised and elegant. The Other sat splayed in it, and the broken image of Cloud lay at his feet. Half of his face was missing. There was nothing behind it. A hollow shell. As if he were a porcelain doll.

Sephiroth woke feeling sicker. He didn’t want to go back to sleep. He wanted…

“Hey,” Texted Cloud that afternoon. The icon showed him typing.

“Please.” He said softly, staring at his phone.

The typing icon vanished. Came back. Vanished again. Sephiroth hesitated. Took a deep breath. Typed.

“Can we talk?”

Maybe he could… Explain.

A long moment of nothing. Then a response at last. “Yeah. See you tonight.”

Sephiroth dropped his head onto the table. Let out a heavy breath.

“Now what.” He muttered to himself. He was answered by nothing but the distant echoing memory of the Other’s laughter.

He didn’t think of anything. But he went to meet Cloud. To face facts. To try.

He saw it the moment he walked into the room with Cloud. How the Trooper’s focus wavered. Flickered from Zack to Sephiroth. Zack pulled his strike in time to keep from slicing Cloud’s face open. Flipped his sword. Tapped Cloud lightly on the forehead with the flat of his blade.  
  
“Aaaand that’s training.” Zack said flippantly, apparently unaware of what Sephiroth had seen. The flash of terror on Cloud’s face.

“Ugh, sorry.” Cloud muttered, lowering his sword.

“Relax,” Zack laughed. “Angeal does that to me, like, once a week. Ready for cool down with Seph?”

“Yeah.” Cloud said, rolling his shoulders. “Thanks, Zack. Hey, Sephiroth.”

“Hey.” Sephiroth said, then frowned in distaste and confusion at the sound of the word on his lips.

Zack looked between them. Sephiroth to Cloud to Sephiroth.

“Riiiiight.” Zack said slowly. “I’ll just, uh…. Hit the showers.” He clapped Cloud on the shoulder. “Great work, Spike.” Then he leaned in closer. Sephiroth heard him whisper: “Go get him.”

“Shut up!” Cloud hissed back, shoving Zack in return.

Zack was laughing as he jogged out of the room. Sephiroth watched him go with confusion. If Cloud had told him, there was no way Zack would have—

“Good luck.” Zack whispered to Sephiroth as he passed, still chuckling.

Then it was just the two of them. Cloud was looking anywhere but at Sephiroth. But he was there. So…

“You’re angry.” Sephiroth said, plowing forward into the discussion. “And you have every right to be. Just… Let me explain.”

“I’m not angry.” Cloud’s voice echoed in the empty training room. He shifted. Cocked a hip. Braced the hand that wasn’t holding a sword on it. “Should I be angry?”

Sephiroth stared at him. Glanced the trooper up and down. Hesitantly started to approach him, hands at his side, head tilted down a touch.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He said. “I assumed…”

He let that trail to silence. Was it possible he didn’t…?

“That obvious, huh?” Cloud asked with a sigh, letting his shoulders drop. “You didn’t do anything. That I know of. What was that about letting you explain?”

“Nothing.” Sephiroth said, too quickly. “I…” Recover. Truth, where you can spare it. “I used to… Fight a lot with Genesis. When we were younger. I would never know what made him angry. So I just… Learned to apologize.”

“Huh. Sounds like a super healthy friendship.”

“Sarcasm?” Sephiroth lifted his eyebrows. “I’m wounded.”

Cloud huffed out a laugh. The last of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

“Let me put this thing up.” He said, hefting the training sword.

“Of course.”

Maybe he meant ‘alone,’ but Sephiroth didn’t think of that till he was already turning and walking with him towards the rack of training swords.

“For… What it’s worth, I usually had done something unkind. To Genesis that is. I’m not very good with people. So if I offended you or—” 

“No.” Cloud said, heaving a sigh. “It’s stupid. I just… Had this dream.”

“A dream?”

“Yeah. Guess I have some… Pent up stress. So, you know, totally not your fault. Just messed me up a little.”

Sephiroth thought of his own dreams. Swallowed hard.

“I was in your dream? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Cloud shoved the sword into the rack with a little too much violence to be normal. “No. It wasn’t even really you. Or me. Or… I don’t know. It was just weird. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Sephiroth murmured, though he was unsettled by it. It couldn’t have been…

“Did… that is, um…”

Cloud was hesitating. Standing in front of the rack of swords, staring at his own warped image in the dull metal. Sephiroth looked at them too. The dim, distorted reflection of Cloud.

“You were worried?” Cloud asked.

“That I’d done something, yes. The others assured me you were safe.”

“You asked them?”

“Of course.”

“What did they say?”

“Not what you said. But that’s alright. You were with them, and safe.”

Silence for a moment. Then Cloud took a deep breath, letting it out and turning to face him.

“It’s not.” He said, set and brave. “Okay, that is. It wasn’t okay of me. I… Don’t know why I got so weird about it.”

“It’s—”

“Don’t say ‘okay.’”

“— not a problem.”

“Sephiroth—”

“You can just tell me next time. If there is a next time. It won’t hurt my feelings. The others are far more pleasant—”

“I’m thinking of getting a spray bottle.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Joke with Angeal. Just…” Cloud looked up at Sephiroth. “It’s okay to be mad at me. I shouldn’t have lied to you. Or avoided you at all.”

“I didn’t mind. I only thought—”

“Hey,” Cloud reached out. Touched him. Right over his heart beat. Sephiroth’s shirt was thin. He could feel Cloud’s warmth. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

Sephiroth blinked. Inhaled deeply. Held very, very still under Cloud’s fingers.

“If you don’t want to accept my apology, that’s okay.” Cloud murmured. “But can we just… Pick up where we left off?”

“ _Grand jetes_?” Sephiroth guessed, trying to remember their last impromptu ballet lesson.

“As friends.” Cloud chuckled. Splitting into a grin. He had a dimple, Sephiroth realized dully.

“I can be a burdensome friend.” Sephiroth warned him. “Even to Angeal. And he is a patient man.”

“Burdensome, huh?” Cloud said. “Hold still.”

“Why am I— _oof_ —”

Cloud’s arms were wrapped around his middle. Cloud was lifting with all his might, his shoulder pressing into Sephiroth’s diaphragm, and his arms too tight and—

He lifted Sephiroth off the ground.

Sephiroth laughed, astonished. Even as he twisted, breaking Cloud’s grip, stumbling to his feet.

“Not super burdensome.” Cloud assessed, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes averted. “Maybe a little more if you were wearing your armor.”

Sephiroth felt breathless. He felt untethered. He felt—

“You are full of surprises, Cloud.” He breathed.

“That’s a nice way to say ‘bad ideas.’” Cloud muttered.

Sephiroth raked a hand back through his hair. Settled it back in place after having gotten ruffled by the surprise roughhousing. Took a deep breath to settle the light, strange feeling in his chest.

“Next time get a lower hold.” He advised, as blank-faced as he could manage. “You’ll hurt your back like that. Lift from your thighs.”

Cloud split into a grin. Snorted.

“Right. Got it.”

“Come on.” Sephiroth said. Gently tapped Cloud’s shoulder. “Zack was right. You need to cool down after your work out. And I’d hate to think I’m a less responsible instructor than he is.”

“Right.” Cloud cleared his throat. Rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. I… Could use to cool down.”

Me too, thought Sephiroth, letting out a slow breath.

* * *

“So?” Asked the Other. “Ready for my guidance again yet?”

“I’m fine.” Sephiroth replied. “Your guidance has done nothing but make things worse.”

“For who?” The Other chuckled.

Sephiroth was trying not to look at him. Not to look at the broken Cloud leaning against his thigh. His eye was glazed and empty. His lips parted softly. The Other hummed quietly. Leaned forward on his throne to gently swipe his thumb through the bead of drool at the corner of the other Cloud’s mouth.

“Who is he?” Sephiroth asked, his jaw clenched. “My Cloud had a nightmare. Did you—”

“Oh, I didn’t touch him.” The Other chuckled. “You don’t need to worry so much about him and his little nightmares. He’s very, _very_ resilient, Sephiroth. Take this one for example.”

He gripped the broken Cloud’s chin. Lifted his face so that Sephiroth could see the break in him. The pale mockery of an eye.

“He’s nothing but a tattered remnant of the Cloud from my future. Part of the poor thing was so desperate to come with me. Despite turning on us, he always does love us too.”

“Turning on us?”

“I told you. They all will. But you see, Cloud’s the one you want. He loves me so he let me carve off this piece of him to bring back with me. Except he’s so, so exceptionally stubborn. Surely you’ve noticed that by now.”

Sephiroth did not respond. His eyes were fixed on the broken Cloud, who whimpered softly as the Other gripped his chin too tightly. Sephiroth saw the skin at his jaw start to crack. Like his face. Had the Other—

“Even as little a shred as he is,” the Other was purring, stroking the broken Cloud’s hair, “he had to start interfering too. I had to bring him to heel in order to bring him home.”

“You hurt him.”

“You still don’t understand.” The Other sighed. Curled his fingers in Cloud’s hair, drawing a sigh from the broken body. “Cloud, your little friends, Shinra, the small-minded fools of Midgar— of the world— None of them matter, Sephiroth. You know that inside. Don’t you.”

Sephiroth willed himself awake out of spite. Out of desperation.

Because he did. He knew.


	9. Abandoned | Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genesis finds himself alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight change of pace... Mentions of parental loss in this chapter.

Genesis rarely texted. It was a soulless, ludicrous, obnoxious way of communicating. Normally he wouldn’t stoop to it outside of emergencies. If someone wanted to talk to him they could call like a normal person. The problem was, recently, they hadn’t.

‘Any luck with Strife?’ He texted Sephiroth.

Sephiroth had come to him. That had been something, yes. But he’d just come to him like… He didn’t know. Like a professional. Clear, concise questions, directly to the point. 

_Did you take Cloud to see Loveless?_

No ‘ _hello Genesis_ _how are you’_ or ‘ _read any good books lately?’_

Not that he could blame him. He’d seen how Sephiroth couldn’t take his eyes off the Trooper. Questionable taste, but he wasn’t one to judge.

It wouldn’t have been a problem. _Shouldn’t_ have been a problem. The Goddess knew Sephrioth needed a life. But with Angeal busy with his puppy, and the puppy busy with _his_ new puppy, and Sephiroth making puppy eyes at Zack’s puppy—

Genesis shook his head. The soft jingle of his earring was grounding. He took a deep breath. Touched the raised platform in the center of the room and let the VR arena come to life around him.

His family library, in which he’d spend so much of his youth, built itself piece by piece. It was the room he’d spent most of his childhood in. The room where he’d first read Loveless. Where he'd written his official proposal for Banora White Juice with his father. Where he’d opened the letter from Shinra, welcoming him to the Soldier program.

“I’ve been thinking about heroes.” He told the room, enjoying the sound of his own voice in the empty room. It had almost always been empty. His father rarely used it. His mother preferred modern comforts. The servants rarely had reason to clean it. So it had become _his_ place. More so even than his bedroom.

The VR room’s reproduction was thorough, but the sound still carried wrong. And of course, it would never smell right. But it was close enough to what he wanted. An empty, attentive space. The attention on him. How many hours had he spoken to these shelves? How many times had he read Loveless to the paintings on the walls?

“The hero in Loveless,” he sighed to the empty room, “did he feel cheated do you think?”

He touched the spine of a book. He could read all their titles. It was no two-bit low-quality scan, after all. The AI system inherent in the VR room illusions would even populate the text of any of the books if he pulled it off the shelf. The typeface would be wrong, but ah well.

He’d funded the creation of this digitized version himself. This lavish hiding place. He probably shouldn’t have. Maybe he should have sent pay back to Gillian, like Angeal did. Not that she would have taken it. Bug he hadn't wanted to. He'd wanted the comfort of his library, hidden inside the bustling nightmare of Shinra. He had to admit he’d enjoyed it. Not just the final product, but the annoyed letters from his parents, who’d been chased through their own home by drones scanning each and every room for the full Rhapsodos experience.

Sometimes Genesis pulled upon the scans of other rooms from his old house just to destroy them. To rip the art off the walls in the foyer. To break the vases in the drawing room. To overturn chairs in the dining hall. Break the glass in the conservatory. To scream. To be something other than the perfect Rhapsodos boy.

He let out a slow breath. Pulled the only book he’d had recreated in its entirety off the shelf. Loveless was a familiar weight in his hand. His own copy was waiting for him back in his apartment, but it spoiled the immersion to bring his own book to the library. He paced slowly with the book, turning pages without really looking at them. They didn’t feel right, of course. But he was wearing gloves, so he could ignore it. That he was touching and shifting plastic, pretending to act like paper.

“How did it end up like this?” He muttered to the book. “All of them so busy together. How did I go from the Hero’s rival to a footnote? I’m supposed to be what this world truly needs.”

He took a slow breath. Lifted his gaze to the vaulted ceiling. “I thought I knew what story we were telling.”

The library had no answers. It never had, really. But he thought well here. He remembered long days reading at the tables and in the corners. Remembered thinking over and over, circle after circle, of what he’d do once he wasn’t just the small-town rich kid.

His phone buzzed. He checked it. An update from Red Leather, not Sephiroth. Genesis opened it anyway. Someone had hunted up that old article from The Banora Herald. His childhood self, eyes gleaming, as he was praised for ‘inventing’ Banora White Juice. He skimmed it, though he remembered.

_‘I’m just happy to be sharing Banora Whites with the world.’ The young innovator told reporters._

Genesis logged into his fake account, HesARealRedHead (famous for being the only person in the group to have slept with Genesis Rhapsodos. Which was true. He slept with himself every night.) and started typing. 

_Great memories! But he always preferred this version of the article:_

He had it saved in his phs. Not for any real reason, he supposed. He just… Liked it. He pulled up the old photo of the paper. The one with the grinning photo of him and Angeal both. The one where they’d used his whole quote.

_“I’m just happy to be sharing Banora Whites with the world, but I couldn’t have done it without Angeal!”_

He paused before pressing ‘post.’ It was true, wasn’t it? He couldn’t have without Angeal. He hadn’t even— How did someone invent _juice_? He hadn’t thought about it at the time. Not about any of it. He thought about it now. About those long afternoons in his father’s orchard, sitting on top of a dumbapple tree’s arch, cutting slices off an apple. How they’d closed the slices in their hands, calling up their new mako enhancements. Crushing the apple slices over their mouths, tasting sweet juice, making a mess, laughing…

How he’d presented the juice idea to his father in a bid for attention and praise.

How Angeal had never profited from their shared childhood joy, while Genesis was still getting a cut, funneling it into his fan club and Loveless Avenue.

Something inside him crumbled. He leaned over the closest reading table. Took a deep breath.

What did it matter? Hadn’t he earned it? Didn’t he _deserve_ it? The world was a messy, ugly, miserable place, and it needed a hero like _him._ Not a soulless idol like Sephiroth. Not a sanctimonious gasbag like Angeal. The world needed a new hero, and he had made every step in his life to meet that need. To be the shining hero that the goddess needed. The one who stayed.

He wasn’t responsible for the costs of it. Was it his fault that his friend had been poor? Was it his fault that Angeal’s father died to afford his sword on the same weekend Genesis was on one last vacation to Costa del Sol with his parents?

So why didn’t they see it? Why weren’t they here? Why weren’t the outside the door, waiting for his approval? Waiting for his attention? Why did they all act like there was something more important? He should show them. He should show them all. Exactly who he was, exactly what he was capable of, exactly—

His phone buzzed against the table, still held tight in his hand. He jerked his head up, then gasped, reeling back.

For just a moment, he’d thought— His shadow on the wall, he’d thought— He could have sworn there had been— 

What was I thinking? He thought dully, feeling the receding tide of anger fade into confusion. What was I just thinking? Why can’t I remember…?

He looked down at his phone. Opened the message from Sephiroth.

“Yes. We have talked. All is well. He is in my apartment. I am making him tea.”

Genesis let out a little scoff.

“Tell him I’m going to take him to Loveless for real. As punishment.” He wrote back. “I don’t suppose you’d like to come along?”

Sephiroth’s reply was swift. “Why would I?”

Genesis felt that thing coil inside him again. That crumbling. That burning. Then another message—

“I have you.”

Genesis read back over it. Let out a soft, startled laugh.

“Why would I? I have you.”

“Lucky you.” He replied. “Are you ready to ask my advice on asking Strife for a date yet?”

The typing icon displayed for a long time.

Genesis outright laughed when the message came through.

“Maybe.”

He had a weird feeling as he closed his phone. Like there was something he was forgetting. He leaned against the table. Frowned around his empty library. Wondered about it. Wondered why he was thinking so much about Mr. Hewley. Was the anniversary of his death coming up? He would have to look it up. He never remembered it right, but Angeal would appreciate flowers.

They’d never talked about it, really. Maybe they should, Genesis thought.

He remembered his post on the forums belatedly. Pressed ‘post’ with an absent button push. Turned to shut down the VR room.

As he shut down the program and started to walk out of the room, he paused. Glanced back to the wall where he’d thought he’d seen his shadow with a long, twisted wing…

He could have sworn he was just thinking about something. He looked down at the half-opened Loveless in his hand. Smiled to himself.

“The wind sails over the water's surface, quietly, but surely.” He read aloud to himself as the book dissolved into light. “I suppose I could give that a try.”

As he walked out of the room, he wondered, for just a moment, why he was thinking about Mr. Hewley so much.


	10. Take Me Instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud should have known when Zack said it would be 'fun' that he should have stayed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for the following tags: Binding, kidnapping, threat of gun violence, injury, eye trauma, & panic

So, thought Cloud to himself, what he was learning from his ‘educational field trip’ with Zack boiled down to this. 

  1. He was getting much, much stronger. Almost like being surrounded constantly by the elitist of the elite was rubbing off on him.
  2. If Zack says something is ‘going to be super easy,’ he should say ‘no thank you.’ 
  3. If Zack says something is going to be ‘fun,’ he should run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.
  4. He had to start getting better about not freezing up when people grabbed him.
  5. If Zack had known that he was trapped in the labs, he’d have torn the science department to kindling looking for him.



Because yeah. He was stronger. He could slice a dire rat in half. He could face down monsters and gangsters alike at Zack’s side. He could shake off a hit and keep fighting. _They likely began enhancements on you_ Sephiroth had said, inspecting the injection marks on Cloud’s inner elbow. _You may find changes in yourself._

But that was just the effects of lesson one.

Lessons two through four came when Zack jogged off to check on something ahead, promising a continuation of their adventure. The moment he was out of sight, a dozen hands were suddenly on Cloud. Lessons two through four came in as he locked up and shut down, terror freezing his blood and his body in memory— 

_Dude, that’s fucked up_ —

— and by the time he had the wherewithal to struggle, his hands were tied behind his back and there was someone tying a gag around the back of his head, muffling his screams.

“Hope you didn’t think Avalanche would forget your little stunt.” Someone was saying nearby.

‘Fuck you’ Cloud tried to say, though it garbled into nothing past the bandanna in his mouth.

“Get him up.” The man said, gesturing sharply. “Back to Sector Five.”

“Hey!”

Then there was lesson five.

“I’m gong to need all of you to think really, really hard about what happens next.” Zack said, sword drawn, eyes blazing.

Cloud let out a muffled grunt as one of the Avalanche members dragged him closer, pinned to his chest. He felt something hard against one of his temples and tried to squirm away.

“Make one move and I’ll blow his brains out!” The one behind Cloud cried, even as the other Avalanche members lifted their guns to Zack.

“Hurt one hair on his head and I’ll start chopping.” Zack returned, smiling. A tense, wild, manic smile. “And I guarantee you, however many bullets you think I can take before I go down, I can take at least five more than that.”

Silence for a moment. Cloud saw people shifting uneasily. Glances exchanged under obscuring masks. He twisted against the hold, and grunted as the gun pressed harder against his head. If only his hands weren’t—

“None of us want to die here.” Zack said, his voice almost kind. Almost friendly. “So how about we do this like gentlemen, huh? Give me my friend and we’ll all just walk away.”

“There are things more important than our lives.” The Avalanche soldier holding Cloud hissed. “Even if you take a few of us down before we kill you, we’ll have a hostage.”

“Not a very good one.” Zack laughed. “No offense, Spike. If you need a hostage, why not trade for me? I’m a Second-Class Soldier. Got way more company secrets than a trooper.”

“This is personal.”

“Oh, the rescue mission for Sephiroth? He was just bait. I’m the one who killed your dudes.”

“He is an enemy to Avalanche!”

“Okay, cool, so’s half the city. Want to go grab a few more guys while you’re at it? Look, be reasonable, man! I’m trying to work with you here.”

“Zack,” Cloud tried to say behind his gag, warning in his tone. _Don’t do this_.

“He’s my friend.” Zack said, nodding to Cloud. “And my responsibility. You won’t get anything out of him, and you won’t get a ransom. Let him go, I’ll drop this sword and let you tie me up. Hell, I’ll walk where you want to go. If it’s money you want, I’m Angeal Hewley’s protege. Shinra would probably pay at least a little ransom.”

“Zack!” Cloud tried again, more insistent. Struggled against his bonds. He could feel the gun at his temple loosening. 

“What about this?” The man asked, shaking Cloud. “Counting on him to run and call your bosses?”

“Tie him up.” Zack said. “Leave him here. Someone will come looking in the next 24 hours. It won’t be a _fun_ day for him, but you’ll be able to get me somewhere secure by then. Right?”

“You’re a goddamn idiot.” Snarled the man behind Cloud.

Zack grinned. Winked.

“Yeah,” He laughed, “I know.”

Worse than all the other lessons, number five hurt. Cloud yelled at him. Tried to struggle free. The guy behind him gestured someone over. Someone bound his feet. His knees. Added more rope to his bound wrists.

“How do we do this?” The Avalanche member said.

“Oh, is this your first time too?” Zack asked, jovial. Like this was a game. “Sort of the blind leading the blind here, then.”

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s a hostage exchange.”

Cloud tried to bite the man who tightened his gag. There was nothing he could do. Zack was going to throw himself into this and there was nothing he could do and—

“You drop him I drop the sword?” Zack offered. “I’ll warn you, though, if you double cross me I’ll still manage to do a hell of a lot of damage before I go down.”

“We don’t double cross.” The Avalanche soldier sneered. “Not like you Shinra bastards.”

“Sure, sure.” Zack laughed. “Count of three, okay?”

“No!” Cloud tried to yell. _No._

“One,”

_This isn’t okay!_

“Two,”

_None of this is okay!_

“Three.”

Zack’s sword clattered to the ground. Cloud dropped like a sack of potatoes. Then the Soldiers were surging past him, over his body, swarming Zack. Cloud screamed behind the gag. Writhed. Fought his bonds.

“Sorry, Spike.” Zack said, grinning as they forced a gag between his lips. “Hang in th—”

Cloud screamed his fury. Kicked out as hard as he could, though there was nothing to kick. That bastard. That absolute, idiot bastard, he was _absolutely certain that was a pun._

They left him. Left him with his wrists tied behind his back, and his legs tied at the knee and ankle, and a gag in his mouth, lying on the broken concrete of a back alley.

Cloud chewed on the gag. Tried to saw with his teeth. To get any traction against it. 

_‘Someone should come looking in 24 hours’ my ass,_ he thought venomously, frustration fueling his struggles. _‘And where will you be by then, idiot!’_

The bandanna was thick. Twisted. No way he was chewing through it. On to the next. He twisted. Tried to get a look at his bindings. Just knots and rope. Not like the magnetic shackles of the labs. — _no, don’t think about that right now, you have to get to Zack—_

He remembered Sephiroth’s warning about enhancements. Strained against the ties on his arms and legs, muscles bunching, grunting in effort.

Nothing. _Figures_ , he thought venomously.

On to the next, then. They had tied his wrists together, but he still hand some arm motion. He wiggled. Struggled. Tried to find some way to make that work. If he could curl up enough to reach the ties on his ankle— no, that wasn’t happening, but the position gave him a new idea. He took a deep breath, silently thanked his ballet instructor’s grueling training, and surrendered the idea of brute force for flexibility.

He rolled his shoulders back and down. Brought his aching legs up in front of him. Took a deep breath. Arched his back and shifted, slowly, scraping his face and arm against the hard concrete as he worked his bound arms beneath his ass. And ow, fuck, that was a hell of a shoulder stretch and he was tense as hell, but it was working. If he could get all the way through, bring his arms up in front of himself, he could get the He grimaced around the gag. Kicked as best he could to help himself worm through his arms.

He got stuck at his knees. Took a few deep breaths. His shoulders were burning, and he had a moment of panic as he struggled there. Stuck, and alone, and he couldn’t breathe and—

Zack. Zack was in trouble. Zack.

He tried to curl his knees to his chest. Tried to get his bound arms around his feet. His arms just weren’t long enough, and his legs were tied together, and numb, he couldn’t work them through, he couldn’t fight the restraints, he--

Deep breath. Think about Zack.

He took a slow breath. Extended his legs. Pointed his toes. Heard his balletmaster in his head. ‘If you think you can’t stretch any farther, hold for thirty seconds and breathe. Your muscles will relax and you can gain another inch.’

He moved. Stretched. Reached. Held. Breathed. Gained another inch. Another. Thought of Sephiroth, one leg stretched easily over his head in a standing split. The little smirk on his face as Cloud had gaped at him.

Took an extra second to breathe to shake off that image. Not right now.

His palms were pressed against the top of his boots. Just another inch. He took a deep breath, readied himself, and lifted his feet with a grunt of effort, shovign his boots against the bonds on his wrists. It hurt like hell, but finally, finally, he was able to drag his hands up and over. Still bound, and now with new scrapes and scabs from his rough treatment, but who cared about all of that? They were in front of him, he could use them.

He hauled the gag out of his mouth, gagging. Didn’t stop to breathe or rest. Started fumbling with the ties on his legs. Got his ankles free. Then his knees. Brought the knot around his wrists up to his mouth. Started prying at it with his teeth, his own breath hot against his hands.

That was when he heard the footsteps.

His legs were numb, and his body was stiff, and his chest was still tight with panic, but he dragged himself up. Ducked behind the stack of crates. Tried to breathe. To think. To plan. He cast around the room, looking for anything he could use.

“Sorry, kid.” A voice was saying as the footsteps approached. “Real sad, your friend throwing himself on the grenade for you, but that’s what you Planet-bleeding Shinra…”

He trailed off. Approached a little closer, no doubt looking at the frayed ropes where Cloud had been tied.

_He’s got a gun_ , Cloud thought to himself. _You won’t get two chances at this._

And then he thought, _for Zack._

The rusted pipe was nothing like a sword. Mostly in that when Cloud screamed, and charged, and swung, it didn’t slice the man’s face open.

It caved it in with a wet ‘thunk.’ Hot 

_Be sick later, be sick later, be sick later_

He needed backup. He needed help. He fumbled in the twitching man— no— body’s pockets with his bound hands. Pulled out his phone. He knew the number. Angeal had made sure he knew the number.

He turned, pipe held in his armpit and bound hands holding the phone to his ear. His legs were shaking, but he forced them into a jog away from the murder scene. He shouldn’t feel bad, he told himself. The guy had been coming back to execute him. 

The phone was ringing. Ringing. Ring—

“How do you have this number?” Angeal’s voice on the other end, gruff and steady— Not angry, just intense.

“Angeal,” Cloud was gasping. His chest heaving. If there were more— He was fucked if there were more. “Zack’s in trouble.”

“Cloud? Where are you? Where’s Zack?”

“Sector Four. We were just— He took me on patrol. Avalanche— They’re taking him to sector five. I’m headed there now.”

“No. Stand down. Get to the train and get back to base. Zack already reported your location so I’ll be there in—”

“They’ve already got a head start but I think I can follow them!” Cloud cut him off. Staggered into a wall. Dragged in a breath. _Stop it_ , he told himself. _Stop it. You’re not hurt. You’re just scared. Zack needs you._

“Cloud, do _not_ go off on your own!”

He was yelling. Yikes.

“He’s in trouble, sir! He’s in trouble because of me! I’m going.”

“Cloud, don’t hang up!”

“Sorry,” Cloud staggered out of the alley. Looked left and right. Turned left towards district five. “I only have one hand right now.”

He only distantly heard the _what?!_ From the PHS before he snapped it closed. Paused to shove it into his pocket. Considered trying to chew the rope off again, but no. He just gripped his pipe, the end that wasn’t a bloody mess, and kept going. 

_Be okay_ , he urged as he forced his shaking legs into running. _Be okay_ . 

* * *

“ _Are you out of your mind?”_ Angeal hissed furiously.

“Oh, good, you brought Genesis.” Cloud said dully, back pressed against the building to stay upright. “Sephiroth’s on a mission, right? They’re in here with Zack. It’s been quiet but— Ow—”

‘Don’t 'ow' at me,” Angeal scolded, gripping his hands, cutting off the rope. “Sit down.”

“No, sir.” Cloud looked away as Angeal inspected his wrists. Looked to Genesis. “There are ten men inside.”

“What’s all over your face?” Genesis asked.

“I killed the eleventh. With a pipe.”

“Ugh.” Genesis grimaced. “Asked and answered I suppose. You’re not going to sit out?”

“No sir.”

“Don’t call me sir, it’s weird coming from you. Here.”

_“Genesis.”_

_“Angeal.”_ Genesis parroted. “He’s a Soldier hopeful, not a schoolchild. Here.”

He held out a rifle, but Cloud couldn’t take it. Angeal was still inspecting his wrists.

“Sir.” Cloud said, tugging at his hands. “He—”

The screaming started inside before he could finish. Angeal was gone in an instant. Genesis was only a eat behind him, shoving the gun into CLoud’s hands.

“Stay out here, shoot anyone who leaves. We are _not_ doing this again.”

Cloud took the gun. Waited till Genesis had disappeared inside. Sighted down it, ready and waiting.

Only one man ran. Cloud shot him through the temple.

“Clear!” Genesis yelled from inside.

Cloud lowered the gun, running to join them. He could hear them now.

“Easy,” Angeal was saying inside.

“Angeal!” Zack’s voice, gasping, desperate. “You have to find Cloud, they—”

Cloud rounded the counter into a bloodbath. Glanced around the room in panic before his eyes landed on Zack. On his knees, bound, and his face— Blood was pouring down his face, starting at his right eye, and his expression was wild with panic. Cloud gasped, and Zack’s eye snapped to him in an instant an—

It was like a switch flipped. The blooded, bruised, exhausted Soldier split into an enormous grin, his bloody face crinkling with the force of his smile.

“Oh, hey Spike!”

“Let me see your face.” Angeal said, going to one knee before Zack, setting the bloody Buster Sword down.

“You used your sword.” Zack whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re a little more important,” Angeal muttered, his big hand careful as he took Zack’s chin between his fingers. Turned his head to inspect the damage. “We need to get you to medical before any cures. See if they can save your eye. What were you _thinking_? If you’d waited for backup—”

“Then they’d have done it to Cloud.” Zack smiled warmly at Angeal. “I’m not sorry for that.” 

* * *

Genesis took Cloud to his apartment. “Get clean, Strife.” He ordered, pushing Cloud into the bathroom. “You can borrow some of my clothes. We’ll go meet them when they’re done.”

“Sorry.” Cloud said, feeling dull. “I’ll be—”

“Take. Your. Time.” Genesis said. Slowly and clearly, pushing Cloud into the bathroom. “Leave the door cracked. I want to hear it if you fall over.”

“Hey, guys.” Zack said, weary but still smiling. The right side of his face was heavily bandaged. “Guess who gets an _eyepaaaatch~!”_

* * *

Sephiroth came straight over once he was back at Shinra. Stood quietly in the bedroom with Angeal for a while, looking down at the sleeping Zack. Walked back out after a few minutes.

“Tea?” He offered Cloud. “I’m making Angeal some.”

“Sure.” Cloud said. “Company?”

“It’s your apartment.”

“Angeal’s.”

“Hm.”

Cloud leaned against the cabinet.

“Sorry, by the way.” He said softly. “I know you were— _we_ were planning—”

“Somethings are more important than a date.” Sephiroth murmured. “Perhaps… Since he is resting, something closer to home would be appropriate? I understand you have been sleeping on Angeal’s couch. As Zack is in his bed, perhaps you would like to use mine for the night?”

“Your bed?”

“M-my—”

Cloud snorted at the look of mild panic on Sephiroth’s face.

“I’m messing with you. I’d love to borrow your couch for the night. Thanks.”

“Truly.” Sephiroth scoffed. “No one challenges me like you.”

“And, to be clear, you like that. Right?”

“Hm. Let me know when you’re ready to reschedule that date. Once Zack is alright.”

Cloud thought about Zack’s delighted grin. His firm statement. “ _I’m not sorry_.”

“So, like… Friday?”


	11. Blood Loss

People had never been very good at understanding Sephiroth.

According to Genesis, he didn’t ‘ _show emotions right_.’ Sometimes he wondered if he just had different emotions. Maybe fewer. Perhaps it was like looking at art, as colorblind as he was. Maybe everyone else’s emotions were filled with reds and greens that would have just been another grey or brown, to him. He smiled to himself thinking about it. He was still waiting for the day Genesis found out. Realized that his reportedly red coat just looked grey-brown to Sephiroth. He was going to throw such a temper tantrum...

But despite the fact that he had been misunderstood and fallen short to Genesis in every notable interpersonal situation, he had not needed his advice.

‘Sweep him off his feet,’ Genesis had said. ‘Make him feel romanced.’

“Forgive me if I’ve misunderstood your signals, but would you like to go on a date?” Sephiroth had said instead.

“Oh,” Cloud had replied. “Like, a romantic one?”

“Are there other kinds?”

“I don’t know. Sure. If you want to, I’d love that. You still have to point your toe, though. Don’t think you’re going to distract me into letting you get away with bad form.”

They hadn’t gotten their date, really. Not the one to the restaurant, with reservations, and fancy clothes. Insead Cloud had come to his apartment, swallowed by Genesis’s spare clothes and roughed up from yet another hard day. Sephiroth had made him scrambled eggs with spinach and sundried tomatoes over toast, because he had expected to go out to dinner and only had breakfast foods. He’d sat with Cloud on his sofa, and asked what he wanted. Cloud Cloud had asked for a distraction. They had watched a movie together. It was supposed to be frightening. Cloud laughed. He liked the eggs.

At night, the Other was alight with glee.

‘He’s close, isn’t he?’ The Other had whispered. “I can always tell when he’s close.”

“Avalanche tried to kill him again. They’re dead now.”

“That’s fine. We’ve moved past the need for them. At least that subsection. I’m sure you’ll have to deal with one of their offshoots later. You saved him?”

“No. Zack did.”

“Interesting. That moves the timeline forward. Is he dead?”

The Other’s expression was mild interest. Sephiroth tried not to look at the broken Cloud leaning against the Other’s leg. There were tears streaming down his face.

“No.” Sephiroth said, firmly, and saw the fractured Cloud drag in a breath. “He’s recovering.”

“Well.” Said the Other. “All things in time.”

Cloud stayed. Set up camp on Sephiroth’s sofa as Zack recovered in Angeal’s apartment.

Sephiroth made sure he always made enough coffee for two in the mornings.

* * *

“I’ve got a custom one coming,” Zack said, three days later, doing squats in the middle of Angeal’s apartment with a square of gauze taped over his empty eye socket. “I asked the lady taking measurements if she thought it was going to look hot, and she said ‘definitely.’ So we should be in business! Cloud, you’ll help me get ready to go back out in the field, right?”

“Of course.” Cloud said, eager to please. “What can I do?”

Cloud apparently had no trouble keeping up with the flow of Zack’s words. Sephiroth was still trying to retroactively put the puppy’s stream of consciousness speech into an order he fully recognized.

“Throw things at my blind side when I least expect it!” Zack decreed, lifting a finger. “I gotta learn how to guard it!”

Which was how Cloud ended up sheepishly explaining to Angeal why he’d thrown a bottle of water directly into Zack’s still-healing face while Sephiroth patted the laughing, bleeding, Zack on the back.

* * *

“How are you doing with it all?” Sephiroth asked Angeal, walking with him away from yet another meeting that Genesis had skipped.

Angeal was silent. He’d been quiet recently. Sephiroth tried again. As gently as he could.

“It must be hard?” He said, though it came out more as a question than anything.

“Maybe this was a mistake.” Angeal replied, his voice low.

“What was?” Sephiroth asked. “Having Zack as a roommate?”

Angeal was silent again. His head lowered, his eyes distant. He didn’t look like the prideful man Sephiroth knew in that moment. He looked… Tired.

“Angeal?”

“Soldier.” Angeal whispered. “Shinra. Us. Maybe this was a mistake.”

Sephiroth paused. Angeal kept walking.

“You don’t mean that.” Sephiroth said, watching him go.

But Angeal did not answer him again.

* * *

“Genesis—”

“Let me guess. You want something.”

“No. I—”

“Spare me. You always want something. You never call to talk. Hell, you never talk to me at all.”

He laughed. It didn’t sound right.

“I’m just concerned about Angeal.”

“You’re concerned? What a time to start.”

Sephiroth hung up on him.

* * *

“What did you expect?” The Other asked. “I told you. They turn on you. One little training accident and it all burns down. Leave them to Rot. Has the Vice President made a move yet?”

“No.”

“Listen to me. All your whining, all your dragging of feet, all your defiance— They gain you nothing. There is nothing I can do to make them love you. I can only tell you where your focus should like. And it should lie with Cloud. He will love you.” The Other stroked his broken Cloud’s face. “Even if it were to tear him apart.”

“Is that what happened to him?” Sephrioth asked, nodding to Cloud. “That’s what loving you did to him?”

“Oh, no.” The Other laughed. “He did this to himself.”

* * *

Sephiroth wrote the conversation in his journal. He wrote every word. Every action. Every tidbit. The face on the back of the high back of the Other’s throne was of particular note to him. The carved silver face of a woman, with a ruby for her single eye.

* * *

“What do you think?” Zack asked, turning his face back and forth.

“Hold still and I’ll tell you.” Cloud laughed, grabbing Zack’s face between both his hands. “You’ve got it twisted. Let me—”

“Ow, ow, ow, my hair!”

“Big baby. How’s that?”

“Does my hair look okay?”

“You and your hair.”

But Cloud picked a few spikes of Zack’s gelled hair free from beneath the eyepatch so it wasn’t crushing Zack’s wild hair completely.

“There.” Said Cloud. “Beautiful.”

“Don’t flatter me, I only have one set of eyelashes to bat at you.” Zack replied.

Sephiroth was distracted. Thinking about what it would feel like to have Cloud hold his face like he was holding Zack's. He felt a little twist of jealousy as he watched them. Wanted to demand the same touch. Felt a sudden spike of sickness thinking of the Other and his Cloud.

“What do you think, Angeal?” Zack was asking, turning to face his mentor, hair swaying around his face, the broad new eyepatch covering his eye and a small swath of his cheek. Handsome and sleek.

Angeal blinked like he was coming out of a trance. Placed a hand on Zack’s hair. Ruffled it lightly.

“You keep following your dreams, Zack.” He said softly. “You’ll be the pride of Soldier.”

“And you’ll definitely get a fanclub now.” Cloud added.

“You’ll join, right?” Zack replied, laughing. “Wanna come with me to show Kunsel?”

Sephiroth watched Angeal’s stony face, and wondered.

* * *

> _“Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess_
> 
> _We seek it thus, and take to the sky_
> 
> _Ripples form on the water's surface_
> 
> _The wandering soul knows no rest.”_

“Loveless. Act one.”

“You remembered?”

“How could I not, when you’ve beaten it into my head?”

It had been a good day. Genesis had announced it had been too long since they fought together. They’d let their weekly training fall by the wayside when they started watching out for Cloud. But that meant it had been a long time since they let loose, even a little. 

Maybe that was all it was, Sephiroth thought. Angeal’s dire words. Genesis’s flaring moods. Maybe they were all just… Stressed. Maybe they were feeling some of those emotions that were grey-brown to him. The ones that made people act so strangely. Sephiroth was certain he’d never acted so rashly.

But now they were here, and he could feel his heart beating. The excitement before battle was more familiar to him. More familiar than the way his stomach twisted a little when he looked at Zack’s eyepatch. The way his throat tightened felt when Cloud blearily mumbled ‘thank you,’ still using Genesis’s spare clothes as pajamas because ‘he didn’t ask for them back and they are _ridiculously_ comfy.’

He slashed Masamune through the air. A neat, efficient movement. It felt good. Thrilling. Angeal chuckled, even.

Genesis lifted Rapier in a salute.

“Don’t take Sephiroth lightly,” Angeal warned.

Then they were off.The two of them against Sephiroth, as they always played. He matched them. They matched each other. He felt his face split into a smile. Not the awkward one that he wore when Cloud teased him. The one that felt right. Strong and confident instead of that strange, awkward thing.

And it stayed. It stayed right up until—

‘ _The world needs a new hero’_

And Genesis woke Rapier’s runes, and he—

_One little training accident—_

_They’ll turn on you—_

_They are already corpses._

They are already corpses.

They are already corpses.

They are already corpses.

And he just—

Couldn’t.

So he stopped.

Right in the middle of it.

Stopped like a stone.

He was done.

Done playing

Being puppeted

Watching the train wreck

And being told to smile.

So he didn’t.

He stopped.

And Genesis—

Didn’t.

Rapier sank into his side with a thick, wet, sound. And the force behind it didn’t stop. Not until it had driven him down. Into the Sister Ray cannon that was not the Sister Ray canon. The floor of the training room. Pinned him to the floor like an insect

And

It hurt.

“Genesis!”

“Oh— Oh, gods, why didn’t you—”

“Sephiroth? Hey. Stay with me.”

“Why didn’t you— Why didn’t he block!? Why didn’t—”

“Don’t pull out the sword! Drop it. Sephiroth! Look at me.”

“I’m fine.” He said. Tried to say. The words fumbled on his lips. Stumbled. Faltered. Even just the two words and he faltered. He swallowed. Tasted blood. Looked down.

Yeah. That was a sword in his stomach. Huh.

Someone grabbed his shoulders. Shook him. He closed off his throat, holding back sounds of pain. He felt his hands claw, uselessly. Arched his back further against the pain, gasping for breath. Pushed it all down. Let his body twitch, and spasm, and bleed. He needed to think.

“Why didn’t you block?” Genesis was screaming into his face.

“Genesis, let go of him!”

Sephiroth made a gargling sound. It might have been a chuckle.

“I forgot.” He said in that strange, strangled voice, drawing out the words.

“To block?!” Genesis howled, bordering on hysterical.

Sephiroth’s body was trying to heal around the sword. He could feel it. Angeal was on the phone with someone. 

“What… it felt like.” Sephiroth laughed. Smiled up at the ceiling. It still looked like a sunset. It was beautiful. “Been a long time since… I got... ”

He grimaced. Let it trail to silence. This had been a bad plan. He’d admit that.

His back arched against his will as his body tried to escape the pain. The swore tore at him worse. Hold still, he told his traitorous body, even as Angeal was barking the same thing. Even as the Junon sunset dissolved into the steel ceiling and sparking wires.

“Sephiroth?” Angeal’s voice. “Talk to me.”

“Hello Angeal.” He felt blurry. Strange. Wet. Sticky. He was lying in some kind of puddle. Gross. 

“Talk to me.” Angeal repeated.

“What would you like me to say?”

Genesis barked out a laugh. It sounded all wrong. Sephiroth blinked his eyes open. He didn’t remember closing them. Dragged in a breath. It hitched in his lungs. He looked down. Right. Sword. Stomach.

"What were you thinking?" Genesis hissed.

I thought you would stop, Sephiroth thought. He didn't say it aloud, but it was true. He'd thought Genesis would stop.

“Don’t you dare die.” Genesis choked, his eyes shining with tears. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m fine.” Sephiroth repeated. He choked. Coughed, and oh, that wasn’t great. That wasn’t great, because it made his body jerk on the sword, but Angeal steadied him, wide hands on either side of the blade, trying to keep him from making it worse.

“Stay awake.” Genesis’s voice. “Sephiroth! Stay awake!”

But Sephiroth wasn’t much for following orders. Not when it was Genesis doing the ordering.

The next thing he was aware of was that one of the Other’s eyes glowed red when he was angry. He was very, very angry.

“What. Did. You. _Do_?”


	12. Defiance | Struggling | Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a hard time after a terrible accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 images in this chapter, each at the start of their section. Thank you to Tomo for her amazing work so far this month <3

The tea was cold. Definitely. It had gone cold long ago. If he sat here long enough, maybe it would grow a film of mold. If he sat here long enough, maybe he would too. Maybe he already had.

“Genesis.”

Angeal again. Trying to talk him up. Or talk him down. Genesis didn’t know which Angeal thought he needed. 

“He’s fine. They said he’s healing. No harm done.”

“Oh,” Genesis laughed. It felt like there was acid in his mouth. “There was harm done. Or don’t you have eyes?”

He didn't move while he spoke. Kept his elbows braced on the table, his fingers laced, holding up his head. He felt… Old. Old, and tired, and the bitter kind of angry.

“Why didn’t he block?”

“Genesis.”

“Why didn’t he? What was he thinking? You saw him, he just… He just stood there, and I—”

He took a breath. Hold it together, he told himself. Hold it together, hold it together. He could feel it happening again. That library feeling. He’d started to think of it as his shadow coming loose. Like some part of him that was always there but that he couldn’t see, unspooling. Making new shapes behind him.

“And we got him help, and they are treating him.” Angeal interrupted.

“Something’s going on that we’re not part of.” Genesis hissed in return, squeezing his eyes shut. “Did you hear Hollander, when I volunteered to give blood?”

“I heard him, Genesis. We already talked about it.”

“ _Not you_ , he said. _We can’t use yours_. Well whose fucking blood  _ can _ they use, then? And what’s wrong with  _ mine? _ ”

“It’s a complicated—”

“We’re the same blood type! What, do you think they’re worried about antibody miss-matches?”

“I don’t know what they’re worried about. We just have to trust—”

“Trust them? Trust  _ them?” _ He dropped his pose. Shoved away from the table. Started pacing. His shadow was unravelling. His world seemed to be. None of it was moving right, working right, feeling right. Sephiroth was hurt, and he had stabbed him, and he  _ wasn’t _ sorry. He wasn’t. It was Sephiroth’s fault. He should have moved, he should have blocked, he should have—

“Genesis.” Angeal. Firmer. Stern. Angry. “Stop winding yourself up. Sit down.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re my parent.”

“Then don’t act like a child.”

Genesis whirled on him, angry, unravelled, and—

Angeal looked so tired. So sad. Standing there, holding his tea cup. He still had pink stains around his fingernails from Sephiroth’s blood.

Genesis blinked slowly. Let out a breath. Tried to remember what he’d been so upset about.

“Lazard texted to say he’s out of surgery and out of the woods.” Angeal said, a soft reminder. “He’ll be fine, Genesis.”

“I know.” Genesis whispered, sliding back into his seat, lacing his fingers, leaning his forehead against them, closing his eyes. “But will we be?”

Angeal didn’t say anything for a long time. Then he murmured “I’ll make you some fresh tea and start on dinner.”

Which, Genesis was certain, meant ‘no.’

* * *

“Ah,” said Zack. “Thought I might find you here.”

Cloud didn’t answer him verbally. But he lifted a hand to wave. The training room was empty. The door had been left open. Airing out after the thorough cleaning. No one else had come by yet. Cloud kept looking at the hole in the ground. That decisive gash. Someone had scrubbed the floor. Industrial strength cleaners. Cloud couldn’t even see where the blood had been. But if he stared long enough at that hole in the floor, he could imagine it filling with blood. If he stared long enough, he could see how Sephiroth would have fallen. How—

“Come on,” Zack said, slinging an arm around Cloud’s shoulders. “We’re going home.”

“Sure.” Cloud muttered, letting himself be steered.

He’d just come back.   


‘Home’ turned out to be Angeal’s apartment. Cloud glanced around, but it seemed empty. No huge Soldier to give him stern advice. Good. He didn’t want any stern advice right now.

“Angeal’s at Genesis’s place.” Zack said, drawing Cloud into the living room. Sitting him in the arm chair. “Trying to get him to stop moping, I guess.”

“Moping.” Cloud repeated dully. “Right.”

Zack sighed. Tapped Cloud’s shoulder lightly.

“I’ll make us tea.” He said. “Or… Maybe coffee. I don’t want to poison you.”

Cloud knew it was intended as a joke. He just curled up where he sat on the sofa, looking at the wall until Zack went away. If he stared long enough at the wall, he could envision the sword’s mark in it. If he stared long enough at the mark, he could visualize it as it must have been. Filled with and surrounded by blood.

“Coffee.” Zack announced what must have been a solid ten minutes later. Cloud felt like he hadn’t even blinked.

“You can go,” Cloud told him, ignoring the offered mug. “No one’s going to grab me from Angeal’s apartment. I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do.”

“I’m not here because I think someone’s going to grab you.” Zack said, his voice sounding suddenly smaller.

Cloud heard him put down the two mugs. Felt a brief swell of hope. Then the sofa creaked under Zack’s weight as he plopped down on the arm of the sofa, facing away from Cloud, but very much still in the room. Cloud kept his eyes on the wall, trying to bring the vision of the stab mark and the blood back to it.

“You know,” Zack said, “Genesis told me that after I got hurt you sort of… Dissociated. Locked up. That something you do a lot?”

“No.” Said Cloud.  _ Go away _ , he meant.

“Hm,” Zack crossed his arms. Rocked a little where he was sitting, though he didn’t turn to look at Cloud. “It’s scary. Isn’t it.”

“I’m not scared, Zack.” Said Cloud.  _ Go Away, _ he meant.

“Really? I am.”

Cloud glanced down, away from where he was trying to force that vision to appear again.

“No you’re not.”

“I promise I am, bud. Look, it’s scary. A lot of being a Soldier is. We’re all idiot cowboys, and we all signed up for this. Fearless and reckless, down to the last one of us. But… It’s different when it’s not you. Right? Like, I wasn’t scared when an avalanche guy sliced my eyeball open! I was grossed out, but I wasn’t scared. I’d live and have an interesting story, or I’d die and have maybe saved my friend doing it. But when I realized one of them was missing, and they must have sent him back after you? Then I was scared.”

“That’s what you were yelling about in there?” Cloud asked in a mutter.

“Yeah. Well-timed rescue. I was about to get myself killed trying to take as many of them out as possible.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“See?” Said Zack, laughing. “This is what I’m talking about when I say you’re Soldier material. Cloud, if I  _ hadn’t _ done that, they’d have hurt  _ you. _ That doesn’t scare you though, does it?”

“No.”

“And if something went wrong in training, and I ran you through? You know it’s a possibility, I don’t have the best control and it just happened to  _ Sephiroth _ of all people. So. Are you scared to spar?”

“No, Zack. Can we just not—”

“So!” Zack blazed forward. “What you’re telling me is that you aren’t afraid of getting hurt, you aren’t afraid of suffering, you’re willing to stand up and face any danger.”

“Yes! Now can—”

“It’s just when  _ we _ do it that it scares you.”

Cloud went silent. Stared down at the carpet. Blinked slowly.

“It was an accident.” Zack said softly. “But it sucks. And it’s freaking me out that he’s still in medical, even if they did announce that he’s okay. I’m not saying you’re weak, Spike. I’m saying I feel it too.”

Cloud swallowed hard. Felt that thing he’d been trying to stay away from bubble up inside him. That sick, twisting, painful feeling. That thing that wanted to suffocate him.

“Why isn’t he back yet?” He asked, his voice choked and wrong.

“I don’t know, Spike.”

“It’s been  _ two days _ .” He covered his eyes, trying to hide the burning tears. Trying to force them back.

“It has.”

“Why can’t we see him?”

“I don’t know, Spike.”

“I just—” Cloud pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Gasped in a shaking breath. The tears were hot on his cheeks. Thank the gods Zack wasn’t looking it was so—

“He’s really lucky, you know?” Zack said, rocking a little where he sat in his oversized Soldier hoodie. “Actually, I think I am too. But I think he’s luckier.”

“Why?” Cloud snapped. “Because he survived it or some—”

“You really like him, don’t you?” Zack said, voice soft despite how neatly he interrupted Cloud. “He’s really lucky to have you worrying about him, Spike.”

Cloud shattered. Hid his face in his hands. Choked back sobs. Because yes. Yes. He really liked him.

Zack moved slowly. Pulled off his giant hoodie and shoved it over Cloud’s head.

“Wh— Hah— What are you doing?” Cloud laughed, wetly.

“You need coziness.” Zack prescribed. “And distraction, and a reminder that you’re not waiting alone. So you’re going to—” He wrestled with one of Cloud’s arms, trying to bully it through a sleeve without actually hurting him or the Soldier sweater “—Wear a giant sweater, and let me make you—” Cloud got the message and put his second arm in without making Zack wrestle “—dinner.”

“Make me dinner?” Cloud asked, his voice still choked, and his nose stuffed, and his eyes tear, and his ace no-doubt red. But he was still laughing a little as Zack tugged the sweater down so his head popped out. “Can you cook?”

“Did I say make you dinner? I meant order you pizza.”

Zack was grinning. But it wasn’t that wild, delighted, vibrant grin. It was something quieter. Warmer.

“Hey,” said Zack. “We’re friends. Right?”

“Right.” Cloud whispered.

“Then please trust me when I say that I know Sephiroth well enough to know he doesn’t want you staring at the floor, or obsessively worrying about him, okay? If you want to talk about it, we can talk about it. But no more training rooms, okay? Drink your coffee. Talk to me.”

“How’d you get so good at this?” Cloud asked, wiping his eyes off on the sleeve of Zack’s sweater. “You’re supposed to be the cute, dumb one.”

“Don’t worry,” Zack said with a laugh, standing up and wandering back into the kitchen. Presumably for a takeout menu from Angeal’s selection of ‘allowed on upper floor’ delivery places. “I am. Cuter’n you, anyhow.”

“You wish!” Cloud called after him, feeling a little bit lighter.

When Sephiroth was out… Well, when he was out, he’d ask him what happened, and find out how to keep it from happening again.

If nothing else, once he and Zack made First, maybe they could make sure it didn't happen again.

* * *

“Let me make something clear to you,” the Other said.

Sephiroth spat blood. Pushed himself up on shaking arms.

“This is not your mind.”

Sephiroth climbed to his feet. He didn’t make it all the way before the Other was in front of him, sword flashing. He raised his arms. Kept his head on his shoulders, but felt the skin part, the bones slashed. Fell again, and rolled with the force of the blow.

“It is  _ ours _ .”

Sephiroth pressed his hands to the ground. Steeled himself. Started to rise again.

“I have been generous. I have let you take the lead. Let you maintain this as  _ your _ world. But it is not. It is ours. And I am  _ infinitely _ more powerful than you.”

“Get up,” Someone was saying. A voice he knew. Trusted. He lifted his eyes, braced on his hands and knees. Saw the broken Cloud, toppled at the base of the throne where the other had left him. His blank eye was fixed on Sephiroth. His lips moved again, shifting the cracked, broken side of his face.

“Get up.”

Sephiroth woke in a mako tank. Cast his gaze around, but it was hard to see. The liquid was clear enough, but glaringly bright. 

“I’ll confess—”

Sephiroth shifted in the liquid. Cupped his hands against it to spin in place. Sought out the blur of Hojo.

“—I’m very much looking forward to hearing your reasoning on this.”

Sephiroth twisted to watch him as the man paced around the tank. Keeping his eyes on his father as he moved.

“And do not mistake me, I know it was reasoning.” Hojo laughed to himself, rubbing his chin. “I sent you to war at thirteen years old, and you came back healthier than you left. But now, one training mission with Hollander’s little failures and I have to spend my afternoon repairing your spine? No, no, that’s not the sort of mistake you make. So I must infer that this—” he stopped before the tank. Tapped his knuckles against it. “—it was on purpose.”

_ Some things haven’t changed, _ laughed the other in his mind, Sephiroth shuddered. The Other wasn’t supposed to be able to speak to him. Not out here. But he did not dare believe he had imagined it. Even in his imagination, he couldn’t have considered laughing at Hojo.

“Now I have two hypotheses.” Hojo continued, ignoring Sephiroth’s twitch. “The first is that this is a direct dig at me. But I suspect that is the mundane man in me, worrying about a disobedient child.”

He laughed at himself. Sephiroth pushed a little further back in the mako tube. Tried to look down at his body. The wound.

There was a scar.

“The second, and this seems more likely, is that it has something to do with your current erratic behavior. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re as aware of it as I am. That little trooper? The one you pointed me towards then broke in to rescue? Yes, I know it was you. I’d have been angrier if it hadn’t been so amusing. Seeing you follow in my footsteps.”

Sephiroth withdrew. Shook his head. Felt his lip curling in disgust, even as his hand lowered to his stomach. Feeling the raised, discolored flesh there. 

“Hah! You recoil at that, but it’s true, boy! It is so terribly easy to mix up scientific interest and affection. You are so very like me in that regard. Very like your mother as well.”

Sephiroth blinked. Drew in a breath that wasn’t a breath. Mako didn’t even burn his lungs anymore. It was nearly as familiar as air. 

“I’ve no objection to you pursuing whichever interest it is you have in him.” Hojo said, turning away and waving a flippant hand. “Though I will say he struck me as a mediocre test specimen. Perhaps better kept for whatever stress relief or romance you intend him for. No, what I object to is this… martyr-like turn you’ve taken. Has all that hero talk gone to your head at last? 

“It was amusing, at first. Watching you get your haircut by Avalanche nobodies, when even Fuhito’s best efforts at Soldiers barely stood a chance. Watching you play at protecting that Trooper with your friends, when we both know very well he was in more danger from me staying with you than he was alone. But this is a shade too far. So you’re going to stay in there for a few days to think about it. Your body might have healed, but it wasn’t without my intervention. 

“I have nothing against experimentation, boy. Satisfy your curiosity all you wish. But know this. That decision you made was a grave error. One you will pay for. And any decision like it in the future? I will ensure that your little friends pay twice as much.”

He turned towards the door, clicking out the lights in the lab, leaving only the glow of Sephiroth’s mako tube.

“Oh!” He said, pausing, silhouetted in the doorway, “And enjoy your new scar. Don’t you think it looks fascinating? Almost like it’s not human at all.”


	13. Broken Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth comes home. Somehow, even that isn't easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a mentioned/referenced mental breakdown in this chapter, as well as the continuing scary relationship between Broken!Cloud and Other!Sephiroth.

“You’re sure you’re steady enough?”

“Quite certain, Cloud. My legs are quite sturdy. Would you like to feel them?”

“Don’t _flirt_ with me, I’m walking you home from _medical!_ ”

“Alright. When shall we reschedule for? Friday?”

Cloud snorted. Ducked his head. His hands shoved in his pockets, his stride shorter than Sephiroth’s— One and a half steps to Sephiroth’s every one. But they walked side by side.

Sephiroth hadn’t asked him to come down. To walk back with him. To do anything, really. But Cloud had shown up anyway, when Sephiroth finally replied. Replied to the backlog of 54 messages, sent over the last 11 days, while he had been floating and—

He yanked his thoughts away from that like pulling on a Chocobo’s reins. Glanced down to Cloud, walking by him with his chin tucked and his hands in his pockets.

“Have you been staying at—”

“Ah, no. It didn’t feel right without you there. Zack and I have both been at Angeal’s place.”

“Not Genesis’s?”

“No, he’s… Not really been in the mood for company.”

_Why didn’t you block?!_

“Ah. I suppose not.”

Silence a while. Sephiroth scanned his keycard in front of the elevator. Nodding to a pair of passing Second classes who came to attention at the sight of him. Chuckled softly to himself as he thought about how long it had been since Zack bothered standing to attention in front of him… Cloud kept his eye straight forward, ignoring the seconds, his chin tucked further, and his shoulders hunched. 

Sephiroth put a hand on his back to guide him onto the elevator, and smirked a little at the staring Seconds.

“So…” Cloud muttered once they were on the elevator. “Do… you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Sephiroth stared out the glass walls of the elevator while Cloud stayed rooted in place, watching the closed doors.

“Ugh…” Cloud muttered. “One second.”

“Not a fan of—”

“Elevators. Cars. Transport trucks. Any of the above.”

“Chocobos?”

“Never tried. Might be okay. Motorcycles are fine.”

“Hm. Sorry I live so high up.”

“It’s fine. I usually just take the stares.”

Sephiroth turned his eyes to him. Stared fixedly.

“The _stairs_?”

“Zack says it’s good for my endurance.”

“Does Zack take the stairs?”

“Uh…”

“I’d bet not. Even I don’t.”

“Well, guess I’ll have better endurance than you, then.”

Sephiroth chuckled as the elevator finally stopped. Watched Cloud wobble just for a step as he walked out into the hallway. Got caught watching when Cloud glanced back to check on him, and drew up a little short at the look in his eyes.

“What?” He asked, smirking a little as he stepped out of the elevator after him.

“Just… Checking on you.”

“I’m fine, Cloud.”

“Hm…”

Sephiroth shook his head, striding down the hall. He could feel the scar, still sensitive in comparison to the rest of his skin. He’d been so relieved, strapping on his Soldier belt, that it covered the edge of the scar. He didn’t like looking at it. Didn’t like thinking about it.

_It will heal_ , he reminded himself. _It will heal. You never scar._

“What are you thinking about?” Cloud asked.

“Nothing. Just glad to be home.”

He swiped his keycard once more. Stepped into his apartment with a sigh. Almost shed his coat, but changed his mind at the last moment. The scar on his back would be visible, the low back of the belt…

“Let me go change?”

“Sure.”

Sephiroth glanced over at Cloud in confusion. The intonation of his voice seemed different then. His chin was still tucked, his hands still in his pockets, and Sephiroth felt sort of like he was entering another one of those muddy, grey-brown areas that would have looked red to Cloud.

_You’re overthinking_ , he told himself as he walked into his bedroom.

_You’re fooling yourself,_ the Other whispered in his mind.

Sephiroth stripped out of his uniform. Kept his eyes off his body. Dragged on an undershirt, then his favorite cardigan. He hadn’t been dressed in days, and going straight back into his leathers had been more than unwelcome.

He hesitated in front of his drawer of pajama pants, then closed it again. Cozy was one thing, but _Cloud_ was out there. He still wanted to look at least somewhat put together. Slacks would do.

“That’s better.” He sighed as he exited his room.

“Cool.” Cloud said, still standing where Sephiroth had left him, hovering just inside the entryway. “Well, I’m… Glad you feel better. I’ll leave you to it.”

“You’re leaving?” Sephiroth asked, feeling very suddenly much smaller. Worse even than being struck by the Other’s blade and struggling even to stand. 

Weren’t they just joking? Wasn’t Cloud just—

“I just…” Sephiroth watched Cloud’s adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “I’m not up to pretending things are fine.”

“Pretending?” Sephiroth gave a soft laugh, like an offering. _We can pretend this mood change didn’t happen. We can pretend we’re just having fun_ . “Things _are_ fine.”

“Have a good night, Sephiroth,” Cloud said in reply, and he turned to go, and Sephiroth—

He didn’t understand the panic that laced through him, but he moved closer. Stopped before he grabbed him, thinking of his own rough hands, grabbing his arms, pushing him down, laughing—

“Please stay?” He asked, his voice awkwardly flat after the carefully practiced teasing of before.

“I can’t.” Cloud stood stiff, his back turned, his shoulders hunched, his head down. “I can’t. I’m just— You don’t want to talk, and I can’t just pretend. Not even if that’s what you want from me.”

“I don’t want you to pretend.”

“Then talk to me!” Cloud snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Say anything other than ‘it’s fine’ or ‘nothing to worry about!’ You were gone for _eleven days_ , Sephiroth! And I kept— I kept thinking about that cell down in Medical and— And if you were there, I wouldn’t— Wouldn’t be able to—”

“Cloud.” Sephiroth whispered. Moved a step closer.

“What happened?” Cloud asked, turning to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes too-bright and shining with tears. “What happened to you? Where were you?”

“I don’t have any answers that will—”

“You do have answers!” Cloud snapped, turning towards him, “You just won’t _tell_ them to me!”

Sephiroth had only seen him furious once. And last time it had been directed away from him, towards the man whose arm Cloud had just broken. He’d felt something then. Something warm, and strange, and wild in his blood.

He felt something now too. But it was cold. Cold, and tight, and he was so—

“I can’t.” He said, though it came out as small as he felt. “I want to.”

“Do you? Or am I just… Just your pet Trooper?”

_The Other stroked the broken Cloud’s hair, guided his head to rest on his thigh, Sephiroth never saw that Cloud standing, never saw him smile—_

“You aren’t.” He rasped, feeling sick.

“Prove it!” Cloud screamed, taking a step towards him. “Talk to me, show me, give me _anything!_ ”

Sephiroth opened his mouth but nothing came out. No excuses, no deflections and he couldn’t— He couldn’t tell him—

“Anything!” Cloud repeated, louder, angrier, his eyes blazing. He’s mako enhanced, Sephiroth thought numbly. Hojo enhanced him.

“I—” He took a breath. It was too shallow.

Genesis’s sword didn’t stop. Genesis’s eyes glaring down at him in fury. Murderous.  
 ~~Genesis, dead on the floor.~~

Angeal muttering ‘this was all a mistake,’ Angeal walking away from him, Angeal yelling ‘don't pull the sword out!’  
 ~~Angeal’s rotting corpse~~

Zack, eyes full of worry ‘have you seen Cloud?’ Zack’s empty eye socket, hastily covered when he realized Sephiroth was in the room.   
  
Cloud, handed over to Hojo in a letter of recommendation. Cloud in a glass cage, with magnetic shackles on his wrists and ankles. Cloud, sobbing and rocking on the monitor. Cloud in his mind, Cloud screaming before him, Cloud—

“Hey,” Cloud was whispering. “Hey. Take a breath.”

Sephiroth dragged in a breath. Blinked. His vision was blurry. He hadn’t been breathing. He staggered a little. Dropped onto the sofa in his living room where Cloud had become a regular feature of his life. Let his hands lay limp at his side.

The Other was laughing in his mind.

“Sephiroth.” Cloud, standing before him. Worried, now. Not angry anymore. Was that better? Worse? “Talk to me. Anything. Anything that’s weighing on you. Just… Trust me.”

I locked you up, Sephiroth didn’t say. It was my fault you were down there, Sephiroth didn’t say. I know what it’s like to be trapped in the labs, Sephiroth didn’t say.

“I am… So tired.” Sephiroth whispered aloud.

It was true. He hadn’t really meant to say it, but it was true. Maybe it would give Cloud some peace. Maybe Cloud wouldn’t be so angry. Maybe—

A soft hand touched his hair. Sephiroth let his eyes fall closed, breathing out in a shaking breath.

“Okay.” Cloud whispered, standing close before him. “I believe you. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s fine.” Sephiroth murmured, not opening his eyes. “You’re angry.”

“No,” Cloud’s word was breathy and tragic. Sephiroth felt him step closer. “I’m not angry. I’m just worried and confused. I shouldn’t have fussed. We can talk after you’ve rested some.”

Sephiroth leaned closer himself, till he could press his face against Cloud’s chest.

He smelled good.

“I’m sorry.” He kept his eyes closed. Felt Cloud’s fingers twining into the back of his hair, rubbing gently over the join of his skull and spine. “You’re right. There’s so much I should tell you, but I can’t. I want to.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Cloud promised softly, and Sephiroth felt him move even closer. Felt that hand curling over the nape of his neck, warm and safe. “Do you want to go to bed? Or—”

“Can we just…” Sephiroth swallowed. He wasn’t good at this. This was grey-brown, but he felt it anyway. This was a shade of red that should have been a murky nothing. But he…

“Can we just stay like this?” He whispered, and it hurt to say it. TO ask for it. To want it. He didn’t deserve it. Not from Cloud. But he was tired. He was tired, and Cloud made him feel…

Safe.

“Sure,” Cloud whispered.

“You can sit down too.” Sephiroth tilted his head as he spoke, his voice muffled against Cloud’s hoodie. It smelled good. Like Cloud.

“Where?” Cloud chuckled, the sound soft and uncertain, but not forced.

Sephiroth reached out. Cautiously. Wrapped his arms around Cloud. Waited. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t stiffen up. Sephiroth tugged. As gently as he could. Then he held still again. Waited to see if his silent demand— No, he told himself, request— would be satisfied.

“Oh,” Cloud whispered. Then “oh, boy… Okay.”

He was solid in Sephiroth’s lap. Human muscle and bone and tissue. No hollow, broken doll. Whole. Alive. Here. Choosing. Not angry. Worried.

“Stay?” Sephiroth requested again, sinking slowly under the reality of him.

“Okay,” Cloud said softly. “Okay.”

* * *

He was thrown to the stairs the minute he fell asleep. Choked on a scream as he was run through, pinned at the foot of the throne.

“Are you ready to listen yet?” The Other asked.

Sephiroth blinked. Snarled. Dragged in a breath. Looked to the broken Cloud. Closer than he’d ever been before.

“I’ll take that as a no,” the Other sighed. “Well, you stay there and think about that boyfriend of yours. I have a few more changes to make. It’s much easier while you’re here and helpless.”

Sephiroth couldn’t turn. Couldn’t move much at all. He panted, trying to control his breathing. It didn’t bother him as much as it had anymore. But it suited him, for now, to let the Other think it did.

“We finally have a moment.” He whispered, once he felt the Other rummaging in his mind. Creating more of his castle within Sephiroth’s mind.

The broken Cloud lay as still as a doll a moment more, then slowly tilted his head, letting it loll over to look at Sephiroth.

“Can you run?” Sephiroth asked, his voice choked by blood that was more a memory of Genesis’s stabbing than a reality of the Other.

“He will catch me.” That Cloud murmured, his voice distant. Far away, despite how close he was. “He always will.”

“I want to help.” Sephiroth murmured. “Do you believe me?”

That Cloud blinked his empty eye, his expression just on the grim side of blank. Then he gave a very small nod. His cheek against the stone floor sounded like flesh, despite the broken ceramic of his face.

“Yes.” He breathed.

“What can I do?” Sephiroth asked.

The broken Cloud seemed to consider for a while. Then he spoke once more, quietly.

“Stay there.”

And he vanished with barely a whisper.

He re-appeared well before the Other came back to gloat. And Sephiroth was privy to his very small, secret smile.

It was given through half a mouth. He was missing the whole half of his face now, and not just the handprint-shaped place over his eye and cheek.

* * *

Despite being gloated at, and stabbed, and ridiculed in his dream, Sephiroth woke feeling better. He took a slow breath, feeling the weight of another body pressing down on him. When he blinked his eyes open and looked down to his shoulder, it was to see wild spikes of blond hair, and just the edge of Cloud’s sleeping face.

He was so warm. So real. Sephiroth had fallen asleep with his arms around Cloud.

“I hope you decided to sleep there and didn’t just get trapped.” Sephiroth whispered to his sleeping form.

Cloud snored softly in response. Sephiroth could feel his chest expanding against his.

That warm thing was coiling inside him again. That feeling like contentment, but wilder. Sephiroth gave in to it. Leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Cloud’s head.

He moved the Trooper very carefully. Settled him back on the sofa. Covered him with the blanket. It was easy. Cloud was deeply asleep. The only difficulty was gently prying his fingers from Sephiroth’s dark blue sweater.

He made enough coffee for two, checked the time, and went to face the music.

* * *

“Genesis?”

Silence answered.

Sephiroth swiped his keycard, half expecting his access to have been revoked.

The lock beeped and turned green with a soft clack of the latch.

The apartment— The beautiful apartment, made for company, furnished with the loving touch of a man made to entertain— had been torn to pieces. The record player lay broken in the corner. The wine bottles shattered on the floor. The table, the chairs, the sofa, overturned. Rapier stuck out of a wall as if it were a dart board.

Sephiroth clucked softly and shook his head.

“Don’t tell me this was on my account,” He murmured, looking over at the figure curled in the far corner.

“Just leave.” Genesis muttered. “I know you hate me.”

“Me?” Sephiroth asked, stepping over a broken vase and into the living room. Or what had been the living room. “I rather think it’s you who might be harboring some hatred.”

“Why did you do it?” Genesis asked, his voice raw, his eyes burning mako. “Why did you make me stab you?”

“That’s a way to put it.” Sephiroth commented, righting one chair so he could sit in it, but otherwise leaving the mess untouched. “I’m fine, by the way. Thank you for the concern.”

“Get out.”

“I think if I did, I might never see you again. That’s not what I want.”

“What about what I want?”

“You can act as distant as you like.” Sephiroth said, waving a hand. “I know you cried over my fallen body, and I know you worried for my safety. Let’s drop the pretense. The ego. All of it. Just…”

Cloud’s eyes in his mind. Angry, but not angry. Desperate. Worried.

“Just talk to me.” He said, shaking his head, looking down.

“I didn’t mean to.” Genesis murmured.

“Neither did I.” Sephiroth replied. “Not really. Do you hate me?”

“No. Maybe. Sometimes. You can be so…”

“Cold?”

“Unreachable. _All that awaits you is a somber morrow._ ”

“Loveless, act three. Why that one?”

“Because you leave me behind. You’ll leave me behind.”

“I’m not trying to. I don’t want to.”

Genesis took a slow breath. Sephiroth had a strange moment. Just a moment. Where he thought he saw something shift behind his friend, in the shadows.

“And you?” Genesis asked, his eyes quieter now. Not burning like they had been. “Are you done with me yet?”

Sephiroth huffed. Leaned back in the chair. Crossed his arms. Considered his answer. Considered his choices. Everyone told him he should regret it. Everyone hated him for making that choice. They were angry. _No_ , he told himself. _They are worried. Hojo was angry. The Other is angry. They aren’t angry_.

He did not know where this path led. He would not let that stop him.

“There is no hate,” he said, awkward and embarrassed despite himself. He had none of Genesis’s artistry. “Only joy, for you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of the…”

He trailed off, because he saw what it had done to Genesis. How he’d curled into a shaking ball in the corner. He lifted a hand, almost rising, until he realized that it wasn’t muffled sobs, coming from where his friend had curled up. It was laughter.

“You sound ridiculous.” Genesis laughed, his head in his hands.

“I would throw something at you, but I think it’s all been thrown enough.”

“Ah… Yes, I… Have a backup wine rack. If you’d like a glass.”

“It’s five AM.” Sephiroth pointed out.

“A whole half hour after the last time you broke into my apartment.” Genesis said, rising smoothly as if he had never been curled in the corner. “A cause for celebration.”

“You tempt me.” Sephiroth said.

“If you stay I know you’ll help me clean up.” Genesis replied, his voice as smooth and easy as if he’d never been crying. Never been small, and curled, and uncertain.

“You tempt me significantly less.” Sephiroth drawled.

Genesis laughed, and beckoned him out of the ruined living room and towards the kitchen.

And after a moment of consideration, Sephiroth followed.


	14. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zack falls literally. Cloud falls secretly. Angeal falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains somewhat graphic references to Zack's eye loss in previous chapters! 
> 
> Today's chapter uses one of the official alternate prompts, because we are doing our best to fit all the prompts into a narrative but we _just_ couldn't make drowning work.

  
“So,” said Zack happily, “What did we learn?”

“If someone attacks you and they seem good at grappling, try tapping out.”

“And how did we learn that?”

“Zack—”

“Hooooow did we learn that?”

“I tried to put you in a headlock and you tapped out.”

“And?”

Cloud sighed heavily. “And you reversed position and got _me_ in a headlock.”

“Yeah I did!”

* * *

_Fuck_ , thought Zack Fair to himself, wind screaming in his ears, whipping his hair up into his face.

* * *

“So!” Said Zack, still panting. “What—” he paused for a breath “—did we learn?”

“That Genesis really doesn’t like you.”

“No—”

“That Genesis is really fast.”

“No, not that either.”

“Not to mess with Genesis.”

“No!”

“ _What then?_ ”

“That I’m the best and coolest cuz I got five clothespins on him before he noticed.”

* * *

_Is this my life flashing before my eyes?_ Thought Zack Fair, watching the bottom of the plate get further and further away. _This is a really weird series of events to have—_

* * *

They didn’t pry his eye out. They didn’t take it as a prize. They sliced it open. He felt it split and spill. He hadn’t screamed, but he’d wanted to. He’d stopped grinning, at least. He didn’t want that in his mouth.

Then he’d looked up. Counted. He should have counted before. One of them was missing.

_What did we learn?_ He’d just asked Cloud, laughingly.

_Not to listen to you when you say something will be fun,_ Cloud had groaned.

One of them had gone back to kill Cloud.

* * *

_Ah, yeah_ , thought Zack. That was more like it. Good, proper, life-flashing-before the eyes stuff.

Or, well, _eye_.

_So,_ he asked himself, twisting in the air to look at the rapidly approaching ground. _What did we learn?_

Unfortunately, nothing particularly insightful came to him aside from ‘don’t get blown up next time.’

And, for just a second, ‘Ow. Roofs hurt.’

* * *

“Hello?”

He was still falling, maybe, he thought. It had been sort of fun, aside from the landing. He could still feel the gravity, dragging him downwards, shattering the sensation of flying.

“Helloooo~”

Zack blinked his eye open. Had a brief, disorienting, blurry moment of confusion at the empty space on his right. He blinked into the bright light, squinting. Someone leaned into his line of sight.

Brown hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes wide and bright and worried, her face shining and blurry.

“Heaven?” He guessed, his voice fuzzed with confusion.

“Not even close.” There was a relieved laugh in her voice.

“An angel?” He guessed, a laugh of his own tickling the words, rising to meet her apparent happiness before he was even fully aware.

_Well, it’s better than ‘mom’_ She didn’t say, but he heard somehow anyway.

“Nope,” she said aloud, lifting a finger. “Getting closer though!”

Zack sat up. Shook his head a little, glancing upwards. Yup. That was a hole in the roof.

“Sorry,” He said dazedly, turning towards the young lady, then turning a little further, not used to his limited vision yet. The hit wouldn’t have been as bad if he’d been—

“It’s okay.” She was hiding laughter, but it made her eyes shine. “Good thing the flowers cushioned your fall.”

“Flowers?” He blinked. Looked down. “Oh, whoa, sorry!”

He pushed up to his feet, but his ears were still ringing and his balance was—

“Careful!”

She put out her hands, catching his chest, and braced her feet against his weight. Zack grinned despite himself, lifting his hands.

“I’m okay!” He promised. “Thank you. Sorry. About your—”

“Don’t worry,” She interrupted, waving her hand. “They’re made of tougher stuff! And they like you. Just don't walk all over them, okay?”

“Uh, right.” Zack said, glancing around. He could have hopped out pretty easily, except she sort of… Still had her hands on his chest. “Can I…?” He gestured towards the side, and she seemed to remember herself, yanking her hands back quickly with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry!” Her cheeks were a delightful pink.

Zack caught himself just grinning at her instead of actually moving. He lifted a hand to rake back through his hair, and froze, feeling bare skin where there should have been—

“Shit,” he whispered, pressing his hand over his missing eye. “Sorry. That’s probably— My patch must have—”

He twisted, scanning over the flower patch, looking for the black fabric. It was still so new. It was still raw, and ugly, and—

“It’s okay,” she was saying. “It’s not scary or anything.”

“Yeah, but people don’t like—”

“Here!”

He turned, expecting to see her holding the fabric. Instead she was holding a white flower from the garden, carefully plucked between her fingers.

“What?” He asked.

“If you don’t want me to see, use this.” She said, holding up the flower so that it covered his right eye from her perspective.

“Is that better than using my hand somehow?” Zack asked, though he felt something loosening in his shoulders. He released his embarrassed grip on his own face. Let her hold the flower between them. She was smiling at it. At him.

“Like I said,” her voice felt so warm, “they like you! And your hand is probably dirty. From falling. And the dirt.”

Zack slowly let his hand fall away. Stared at her, feeling his working eye go distant at the sight. Her smiling face. The flower, offered towards him, covering the scar he’d thus-far avoided letting anyone see. Anyone before her.

“What was your name?” He asked, carefully taking the flower from her fingers, holding it before his empty eyesocket.

“Aerith.”

“I’m Zack. Zack Fair.”

“Nice of you to drop in, Zack.”

“Hah!”

“What were you looking for just now?”

“My eyepatch. It’s, uh, sort of a wide band of black fabric?”

“Hmm. You should consider switching to the flower permanently. It makes you look like a surrealist painting.”

“You think I look like art, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her playfully.

She shoved his uniform's pauldron in retaliation. He rocked with it playfully, and laughed outright when she scrambled to catch him in case she’d just knocked him off balance.

“I’m okay now!” He promised, lifting his free hand to touch her elbow gently. “I heal up pretty fast.”

“Oh…” She was very close to him, staring straight up into his good eye. “Your eye is… Really bright.”

“Neat, right?” Zack offered, shifting the flower a little closer and tilting his head so she could get a closer look. “Soldier’s finest!”

“You’re a Soldier?”

“Yup! Second class.”

“...You?”

“What? Don’t think I’m fit for it?”

“No, it’s just… Usually the flowers don’t like people who work for… Well.”

She was still staring into his eye. Like she was drawn in. She blinked and pulled away, though she didn't go far.

“It’s a little scary,” she murmured. “Like the sky.”

“What? Come on. The sky’s not scary!”

“Hm.” Aerith looked upwards, towards the light streaming through the church’s broken ceiling. “I wonder… Oh!”

“What?” Zack turned, following her gaze. A sad scrap of black fabric was blowing in the soft breeze.

“Found your eyepatch!” She said.

It took Zack three tries to jump in the right spot to grab it. Aerith cheered him on gamely, whooping as he coiled and lept and shifted left and right, trying to triangulate.

“Depth perception,” he laughed to her. “Still working on it.”

“Do it again!” Aerith urged, eyes wide and enthusiastic.

When he did get it down, he heaved a sigh, looking at it. Torn straight in half down the back. It must have gotten snagged. It was designed to rip off rather than snapping his neck if it got stuck, but…

Well. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk back to Shinra. Or, worse, to his room, where the others could see, and worry. Where he might be pinned with that awful look Cloud had given him again. That one where he’d come in after Angeal and Genesis, holding that rifle and all roughed up. Where he'd looked over at Zack with that horrified expression. Like he wished he'd been dragged away and tortured instead. Given their recent conversations, Zack was pretty sure he did wish that. He pulled his thoughts away with a deep breath. Summoned his smile back.

“Can I keep this?” He asked Aerith, holding up the flower again. “Looks like I’m going to have a surrealist painting of a walk home.”

“Here,” Aerith held out her hands. “Let me see.”

“You don’t have to. You already saved my, uh, butt.”

“I think the flowerbed did that. Let me see!”

He passed it to her. Her hands slid with a soft whisper over his glove, lifting the eyepatch free.

“Hm.” She murmured. “I don’t have my sewing kit, but… Here, I have a plan.”

She set the eyepatch back in his hand and reached up to her own hair, working at a ribbon she wore there.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You already said that, silly.” She accused, glancing up at him from under thick eyelashes as she worked at the tie in her hair. “Here, hold this for me.”

She dropped a materia into his palm, along with the ripped eyepatch.

“Whoa, materia? You do a lot of, um… Uh…”

He activated his sense with a thought. Tried to suss out what it was so he could make a proper joke about it. Poisoning? Lightning-ing? Firing? But the materia gave him nothing at all. He stared down at it in bewilderment until Aerith took pity on his confusion.

“Oh, don’t worry,” She laughed. “That one’s special. It doesn’t do anything.”

Her hair fell heavy as she pulled out the ribbon. She worked at the tie at the base as well, then shook it out, auburn-brown waves cascading around her neck and shoulders.

“Let’s see if this will help!” She said, taking the eyepatch and materia both. 

The materia she set gently in the flower bed. The eyepatch she set to tying, an end of each ribbon to the frayed, torn ends of the back.

Zack watched her closely. Her soft hands twining together black and pink fabric in sturdy knots. She tugged them. Frowned. Doubled the knots.

“There,” she sighed. “Turn around!”

“Turn…?”

“So... I can help you put it on?”

“Oh! I can—”

“Tie a bow behind your head?” She interrupted, grinning.

“A bow?” He had to match her grin, even as his heart thundered. “Wouldn’t a knot do?”

He’d lowered the flower. He’d forgotten he was supposed to be holding up. But when he remembered he… Left it down. She wasn’t even staring at the stitched-shut eyelid or his empty socket. She was just smiling at him.

“Depends, I guess. How much of your hair do you want to get tangled up in your eyepatch?”

“Not the hair!” He yelped, turning his back for her. After a moment's thought, he settled to one knee, glancing back over his shoulder at her. “How’s this?”

“I’m not that short, you know.”

But she slipped the eyepatch over his head. Hesitated with it over his eye until he lifted his own hands. Guided it into place, the flower still trapped between his fingers. Her touch was soft over his brow as she slid her hands back through his hair, going to work behind his head on the ties.

“I owe you.” Zack said, his voice low and more serious now that he wasn’t being lifted by her smile like bubbles in champagne. “Let me pay you back?”

“What sort of payback were you thinking?” She asked from behind him. She tugged lightly. Asked, “too tight?”

“It’s fine. How about one date?”

“A date?” She sounded incredulous. Amused. “Just one?”

“To start. I mean, I have to give you back your ribbons anyhow, right?”

“Hmm… Alright. I think I’d like that, Mr. Soldier. There. All better.”

She stepped back. Zack stood. Checked the fit with his fingertips as he turned to look at her. Smiled softly.

“My eye isn’t too scary?” He joked, lifting the flower to cover his remaining eye. “I can always hide this one too.”

“No,” She laughed, plucking the flower from his hand. “But you do look good with flowers. Here.”

He stayed and chatted until he realized his phone was buzzing with panicked messages from Angeal. _Right_ , he reminded himself. _I got blown up and fell off the plate._

It felt like a lifetime ago.

He didn’t walk back to Shinra with his head tucked or feeling uneasy. He walked back with a new number in his phone, and a flower tucked into the band of his eyepatch, with a sweet pink bow on the back of his head.

He’d never felt better.

* * *

“This is only floor thirty eight?”

“I thought you said you climbed these every day.”

“I do! Part of the climbing is the complaining. It’s breath control. Or something.”

“I will admit, the last thirty floors did not exactly fly by.”

“Regretting walking with me yet?”

“No. This route... Has its good sides.”

Cloud snorted. Glanced back at him.

“Name _one._ ”

Sephiroth considered, glancing around, then purred “Privacy?”

Cloud slipped on the next step. Stumbled. Sephiroth caught him, though Cloud had already regained his balance.

“Seriously?” Cloud asked, blushing furiously.

“It’s just an observation.” Sephiroth murmured. “Rare, in Shinra…”

He trailed off, because they were so close. Their breaths mingled. Neither fresh after a full day, but Sephiroth didn’t care, and Cloud didn’t seem to either.

Cloud felt so, so warm. Even from under his gloves.

Cloud grabbed the cross-strap of his jacket. Pulled him closer. Stepped backwards, apparently trusting Sephiroth and himself not to fall, until he was backed against the wall. Then there was nothing to stop them kissing. Nothing to stop Sephiroth from bracing one hand on the solid steel wall of floor thirty eight, wrap his other hand behind Cloud’s back, and hungrily devour his lips. Cloud moaned, and sighed, and bit. Gentle, but insistent, till Sephiroth eased up. Let the blond take what he wanted. Heat, and spit, and tongues and teeth, and—

Jogging footsteps. Coming closer. Sephiroth tried to back up, but Cloud didn’t let go of his jacket, and the footsteps were approaching quite quickly and—

They both turned to watch Zack Fair jog up and around the corner from floor thirty seven.

“Oh, hey guys!” He said, waving cheerily as if he hadn’t just interrupted a makeout session.

He kept jogging, taking the steps two at a time up towards floor thirty nine.

“Was he… Wearing a flower in his eyepatch?” Sephiroth muttered.

“He’s got a bow in his hair.” Cloud added, frowning up the stairs after him. “But more importantly than that, how does he have all that _energy_?”

* * *

“Where were you?” Angeal asked, voice choked as if with sorrow, but his eyes angry. Angrier than Zack had ever seen him. Or maybe more hurt? Or just…

“I fell into sector six.” Zack said sheepishly, staying back a little ways. He wasn’t used to staying back from Angeal. His preferred way to talk to his mentor was from standing as close to him as possible. Hugging, if he could get away with it, but shoulder-to-shoulder would do. But now—

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I… Was pretty dazed at first, honestly. I hit my head pretty hard on the way down, and got distracted looking for my eyepatch, and this girl Aerith helped me out, and—”

“A girl.” Angeal snorted. “Why am I not surprised. Let me guess, she wanted to know _all about_ the big strong Soldier and for a couple of gil she’d—”

“Hey!” Zack snapped, taking an aggressive step forward, the memory of her fingers lingering on his brow. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Angeal jerked a little. Surprise flashed across his face, then settled. Wiped away the anger, but not the sorrow. Not the worry.

“Sorry.” He said. “You’re right. I don’t know what…” He sighed. Slowly. Heavily. He suddenly looked a lot smaller. Zack didn’t know what to do with that fact.

“I just… Need you to be safe.” Angeal said, low and rough. “Soldier needs you to be safe. Our honor, our dreams…”

“Hey,” Zack stepped forward. Gripped Angeal’s bicep— wow, yeah, he still had a ways to go— “I’m here. I’m safe. I’m sorry for worrying you. Really. I should have been more careful.”

Angeal was still a moment, then shook his head. Not like he was disagreeing. Like he was trying to shake something off.

“You’re still getting used to your new range of vision.” He said. “I know that. We’ll keep working on it. Alright?”

“Extra training tomorrow?” Zack offered.

“Extra training tomorrow.” Angeal agreed. “How’s your head now? You said you hit it?”

“Hm?” Zack lifted a hand. Felt the back of his head. His fingers brushed over the soft pink bow. He hadn’t even noticed, but… “It’s weirdly fine,” he said with a grin, thinking distantly of the scent of flowers.. “Not even sore.”

“Hm. I have some theories about your skull.”

“Angeallll~” Zack whined, eager to play their usual games again instead of thinking about whatever that had been before.

“Come on, puppy.” Angeal chuckled. “I’ll make you dinner and you can tell me about this lady who rescued you.”

“Oh, ‘Geal, you’d love her! She’s got a _garden!_ Can you believe it? A garden in the slums!”

And I’ve got her phone number, he thought to himself with a secret, warm feeling. It almost covered up the worry.


	15. Branding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud and Sephiroth go for a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning would be a huge spoiler on this chapter's direction-- Please double-check the tags before proceeding! One of the bad ones occurs.
> 
> Bonus illustration at the end of the chapter!

Cloud held the fractured half a face in both hands, carefully. Held up as if it were on a body roughly his size. Because it would have been. The reflection had looked so much like him before...

Well. Now he looked like one eye, most of a cheek, a few locks of hair, and half a mouth.

The mouth was the most recent addition. Cloud had pieced together the face over a month of dreams. Finding splintered fragments of him in the middle of nightmares. broken like porcelain, but they still felt like skin, and hair.

The mouth had come much later. A single visit in the middle of the night during Sephiroth's long, stretching absence.

"You're back!" Cloud had cried, carrying the rest of the reflection's broken face wrapped carefully in his jacket.

The reflection had shaken his head. Whispered "thank you," and then he'd reached up. Clawed his own fingers into the hole in his head. Tore off one last chunk of his face. Then he had vanished again, just as abruptly.

Cloud had gone to it. That corner of his mouth. Of lips that were his own. Twisted down in a tight frown of pain. He'd picked it up. Joined it carefully to the rest of the broken face he carried. It healed together. Yet another hairline crack across the patchwork, broken face.

"Better." The fragmented face had whispered from his hands in a strained, ragged voice. "Now you at least... have some part of me that... can be of use..."

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cloud scolded, shaking and holding the broken face. “You’re just hurting yourself worse.”

“No.” The fragment of his reflection couldn’t shake his head, but he closed his eye for a moment. “At least... part of me… is safe.”

He hadn’t spoken again after that for the rest of the dream. He had very limited strength, Cloud had learned. He would dream, holding the broken face no matter what his dream was. If he remembered what he was doing, he would ask a question or two. The answers usually weren’t super helpful, but it was nice not to be alone.

The problem was, Cloud knew that the reflection had something to tell him. Something important. But the fraction of him here wasn’t able to think of much by itself. Struggled sometimes to answer questions at all. So Cloud had just taken to asking about anything that crossed his mind. Maybe it would be important,, maybe it wouldn’t.

Mostly what he had learned was that he— that is, his reflection— was annoying.

Often he would ask:

_‘What are you?’_ _  
_But the face would only ever answer  
 _‘You already know.’_

And Cloud did. But he didn’t want to. So he pretended he was wrong.

Sometimes he would ask:  
 _‘What do I have to be prepared for?’  
_ But the face would only blink its eye open and rasp  
 _‘Be stronger than you are.’_

Which was how he ended up nearly a month later, back in his worst dream and none the wiser about what was happening. He stood in the locker room where he’d almost died, watching the nightmare play out around him and all but hugging the broken face to his chest. He kept his eyes off of his own dying body. Off of his own face as it started turning an awful red. As he started making terrible, wet sounds and—

He hadn’t died, he reminded himself firmly. Sephiroth had...

“Sephiroth…” He said softly, and the face blinked awake in his hands.

“He said something weird.” Cloud said softly. “This first night. He was looking for me.”

“Yes.” The face replied, slow and grating, dragging the word out of himself.

“Should… I be afraid of him?” Cloud asked, cradling it in both hands, trying to make eye contact with that empty version of his own eye. 

The face was silent a long time as the scene boiled around them. As Cloud heard his own dying gargles, and the laughter that had almost accompanied him to death.

“Yes.” The fragment of his reflection’s face whispered at last, but it wasn’t like it usually was. It wasn’t empty. His lone brow twisted over the eye. His lips tugged down at the corner. Cloud felt his stomach sink, his chest tighten—

“But”— the face continued— “Yours does… Care.”

Cloud wasn’t sure what that meant, but he held onto it well after waking.

* * *

“Plans today?" Cloud asked, keeping pace alongside Sephiroth as they walked together away from Zack's training session.

"Hm," Sephiroth tilted his head, eyes forward, expression impassive and impenetrable as ever. "Would you enjoy a walk? We rarely go anywhere but the apartment. Or, well," Now there was a smile on his face. A small, wicked thing. "The stairwell, then the apartment."

“Knock it off.” Cloud objected, veering to bump into Sephiroth’s shoulder.

The Soldier didn’t budge an inch under Cloud’s shove, chuckling softly to himself.

“Where would we go?” Cloud asked. “Don’t say the President’s Museum. I hate the President’s museum.”

“I’m not insane.” Sephiroth reminded him flatly. “Everyone hates the museum. I was thinking perhaps one of the quieter upper floors? The view can be nice. And there are some areas where the terrariums are growing well.”

“Angeal’s touch?”

“Not… Recently, as I understand it.” Sephiroth murmured, glancing aside. “But he did recommend a particularly nice area.”

“Okay then,” Cloud said. “How high are we climbing to get there?”

“Only forty floors.” Sephiroth said mildly.

“Ugh,” Cloud groaned, and felt his heart lift at the way Sephiroth’s smile lifted just slightly higher.

_‘Yours does care.’_

The forty-first floor’s west wing was nearly empty. According to Sephiroth’s mild explanation, Shinra had built the tower with an eye for expanding, and even all these years later was still working on filling it.

So it was just them.

“It’s pretty nice,” Cloud said, strolling beside Sephiroth. “Starting to make me realize how long it’s been since I touched a plant, though.”

“You have never spoken much about your life before Shinra.” Sephiroth noted.

“Neither have you.” Cloud returned, glancing over at him before wandering closer to one of the towering terrariums and its artificially jungle-like environment.

“I suppose I haven’t.” Sephiroth agreed from behind him.

But he offered nothing more, so Cloud didn’t either.

“You’re lovely in this light.” Sephiroth said instead, voice soft and appreciative.

“Don’t say that too loud, the Silver Elite might hear.” Cloud muttered, glancing back at him over one shoulder.

“Well, considering that includes you, I don’t mind too much.”

“Fuck,” Cloud muttered, turning his eyes back to the terrarium to hide his blush. “Damn it, Zack.”

“He only told me because I was moping.” Sephiroth said, stepping up closer behind him.

“Moping?”

“Mm. I thought you were completely unaffected by my… What’s the word for it…”

Radiance? Cloud’s mind suggested unhelpfully. Glory? Beauty? Prowess? 

_Stop it_ he scolded himself internally, fighting not to hide his face at the very thoughts.

“Reputation, I suppose?” Sephiroth settled on eventually.

Cloud snorted despite himself.

“Reputation,” he muttered. “No, yeah, I’m not unaffected. And I’ve been unsubscribed for a while now. You’re not nearly as untouchable as they make you out to be.”

“Hm.” Sephiroth stepped a touch closer. Cloud inhaled deeply as Sephiroth’s wide hand slid forward onto his shoulder. Squeezed gently. “Not to you.”

Cloud smiled softly, letting out a slow breath as he looked in at the plants.

“That one’s fake.” He muttered, nodding towards one of the bushes.

Sephiroth gave a soft scoff of amusement behind him. His hand squeezed Cloud’s shoulder gently. Warm and affectionate. So warm. Cloud lifted a hand to remove Sephiroth’s palm before he started sweating. But Sephiroth’s hand didn’t budge. And it was—

It was getting really—

“Sephiroth?” He felt something flip in his stomach. Some mixture of disbelief and fear.

“Hmm?”

“That—” Cloud’s shoulders went tense. He shifted. Tried to move away. Sephiroth’s hand stayed in place. Not just warm. Hot. Hot, and—

“You’re hurting me,” Cloud said, turning to look at Sephiroth over his shoulder, scared and uncertain. He thought— It had to be— Maybe he was just— 

“What?” Sephiroth’s expression was genuine surprise. He shifted to move back.

His hand didn’t let go. Gripped Cloud’s shoulder harder. Cloud gasped as the burning got worse Was that smoke? Was there—

“Let go!” He ordered. “This isn’t funny!”

“I’m not—” Sephiroth gripped his own arm. Tried to pry it away. Cloud searched his face, wincing and dragging in another breath as the burning got worse.

“Sephiroth!”

“I’m trying, I—”

Sephiroth yanked against himself. It only dragged Cloud closer.

He screamed. His trooper uniform had burned away into curling embers against his skin. He felt the smoking, curling edges of Sephiroth’s gloves press down against his bare arm.

“It hurts!” Cloud screamed, shoving away as hard as he could.

Sephiroth’s hand clamped down harder.

“Stop it!”

Sephiroth said nothing. He was staring at the smoke. At his hand. He jolted forward a moment later, eyes wild. Pried at his own fingers. Gripped his own wrist. Strained. Gasped, nearly dragged Cloud off the ground.

It should have been dumb. It should have been the strangest thing Cloud had ever seen. It was. Except it hurt. It hurt, it hurt, and it was all he could think about— Burning away at everything else.

He screamed, clawing at Sephiroth’s hand. But it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s not me,” Sephiroth was gasping. “It’s not— He shouldn’t be able— Cloud!”

“Make it stop!” Cloud begged, struggling to escape. His feet slipped against the floor. Left him dangling from Sephiroth’s grip before he righted himself. He twisted. Writhed. Tried to break free.

There was an awful crack. Cloud jerked his head down. Sephiroth had broken his own arm. Badly. Had snapped it in the middle of the forearm.

He didn’t let go. The grip only tightened. Only burned.

Not just his arm, he realized, dimly, over the sound of his own screaming.

It burned all the way through him.

It burned his blood.

“Stop it!” Sephiroth was screaming. Not to Cloud. 

“Sephiroth!”

It came out as a desperate plea. He could feel his skin curling. He couldn’t feel his arm except for the lump of burning pain and it was only getting worse, and—

Sephiroth’s eyes met his. Cloud watched the panic leave him for determination. He lowered his right hand, palm to the ground.

“Hold on.” He said, firm and grim.

Cloud barely registered it. His vision was going dark. Everything was going dark. It was just burning. But he saw the sword. Masamune, gleaming in the dimly lit room. Sephiroth took half a step back. Took one deep breath.

“Wait—” Cloud gasped, fear lacing through him like lightning to join the fire.

Sephiroth didn’t wait. He slashed upwards.

Blood fountained. Cloud fell. Crumbled on the ground, gasping on the ground, scrambling at his shoulder.

Sephiroth’s fingers came loose at last with a sound of cracking skin, or leather, or both. Cloud shoved his hand away, twisting to look and—

He couldn’t even scream. He could only stare. The pale hand he’d just shoved off, lying on the floor. The trail of blood leading away from it, to where Sephiroth was staggering backwards, panting hard. His right hand was tight on his bleeding left arm. The arm that ended abruptly, just past the elbow. The arm that was dripping thick, heavy clumps of blood. Not the bright arterial spurt that had painted Cloud’s face. Like it was already trying to heal itself closed.

“What did you do?” He gasped, trying to stand. His legs wouldn’t hold him. His whole body was on fire. His arm burned, he—

He glanced at it. His skin was cracked and blackened, he was—

“Don’t move,” Sephiroth told him. “Don’t move too much.”

He was walking back over. Kicked his arm away from Cloud as if it was the arms fault. Dropped to his knees by him. Fumbled one-handed for his phone.

Cloud stared at the meat of his bloody stump. Felt a panicked laugh swell in his chest. Choked on it, gagging, and laughing and—

“Forty first floor,” Sephiroth was saying into the phone. “Send a medical team.”

“Sephiroth—” Cloud reached for him with the arm that would listen. Sephiroth drew back. Like he was afraid. Like he was—

“A medical team” Sephiroth repeated into the phone. “Two wounded, one badly.”

“Your arm.” Cloud gasped.

“I’m fine,” Sephiroth said, the phone pressed against his chest as he addressed him. “You’re going into shock. Lie down. Breathe.”

“Sephiroth—”

“It’s okay.” He soothed.

And then, just as he started to grey out—

“I’m so sorry, Cloud. I didn’t realize he could.”

Cloud wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up from whatever this was. He wanted to wake up.

Instead he dreamed.

The fractured face in his hands was watching him, his expression sad and strange.

“It is going to get hard again.” The face whispered. “Live through it. Be stronger…”

“Stronger than I am.” Cloud whispered. “I know. But Sephiroth… Sephiroth, he—”

The face was silent a moment. Then it worked up the strength to speak once more.

“Perhaps caring… Is not enough.”

* * *

They had not sent a medical team.

Cloud realized it when he woke up in a glass cell. Lights glaring inside the walls, blinding him to the outside world. Magnetic shackles were heavy on his wrists and ankles again. His arm burned. He twisted to see it, but there were only white bandages. Cloud clawed at them. Tore at them. Gasped against the feel of burning, the pain, the tearing.

A red, raw, bloody depression in his arm marked where the burned skin had peeled away. The broad, long-fingered print of Sephiroth’s left hand. Clinging to his shoulder forever in a slowly-healing scar.

Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

[Bonus illustration:]


	16. Possession | Science Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hojo has questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains: Confinement, references to amputation, needles, scientific abuse, bad scarring, and a brief reference to eye trauma/brain surgery.

  
“It is not so much that I mind the work or the outcome.” Hojo said conversationally.

Sephiroth said nothing. Watched, dispassionately, as one of Hojo’s surgical machines ripped the bone of his forearm. As another inserted the metal screw at the end of a thick metal bolt. He watched it twist into his body with grim acceptance and did not let the pain show.

“It is the lack of responsiveness that I object to.”

Sephiroth felt the Other moving in his mind. Closed his eyes to focus. To try to stop it.

‘ _Stubborn,’_ the Other accused, the thought flowing through him like one of his own.

“For all intents and purposes the re-attachment should have been a full success.” Hojo was saying. “And yet the decay set in almost immediately. Now why do you suppose that was?”

Sephiroth’s back arched up off the table as the metal drilling down into his forearm went deeper. He felt his neck tense, his tendons tighten, but he did not scream.

_‘You hurt no one but yourself through this.’_ The Other was joyless in his mind for once. Almost sullen with disappointment. He had been ever since Sephiroth had cut off the arm.

“My hypothesis,” Hojo continued, despite Sephiroth’s silence, "is that you simply _rejected_ it. Not a failure, like most tissue or organ transplant rejections would be, but a fully conscious choice, made on a cellular level. Which would, of course, be unprecedented. Further study is, of course, hampered by my unwillingness to allow Scarlet any more limbs of yours to re-design, and your _complete refusal to speak_.”

Sephiroth swallowed. Breathed past the feeling of cold metal inside his bones. Blinked his eyes open to stare at the ceiling. Took slow breaths as Hojo’s machines gripped the new spear of metal replacing his arm. Gripped it. Tugged. Tested. Hojo’s hum, distracted as he checked on the readings. The strength. The give.

_‘I’m beginning to understand the old bastard. You are insufferable.’_

Sephiroth closed his eyes. Envisioned bars, and glass, and metal. Wrapped them around and around and around that intrusive thing inside him. It was too spread out in his body to contain it all. It pulsed with his heartbeat. But he could make it harder.

Quieter.

He swallowed. Walls and quiet and isolation. Would the broken Cloud be trapped in there with him? Would he hurt him?

Was his Cloud…

The science department had come instead of medical. They’d taken them both. Cloud was here somewhere, and days had passed now and…

He thought of that glass cell. He thought of the tinny sound of Cloud’s weeping coming through the speakers. Thought of their brief life together in his apartment. How Cloud had woken some nights, gasping. Had gone scrambling up off the sofa. Had reached for Sephiroth when he came into the room to check. Desperate for some connection.

He remembered the way Cloud's shaking hands had held onto Zack when Zack carried him out of that cell.

“Commencing augmentation build and attachment.” Hojo said dispassionately. “I hope you’re ready to experience some new sensations, boy.”

“Professor.” Sephiroth said.

Even the machines paused at the sound of his voice, controlled by Hojo’s hands behind his virtual reality goggles in the other room. Hojo's hands, but with unstoppable mechanical power and precision.

“Ah, good. I was hoping I hadn’t punctured your linguistic centers when I put in the implant, but it’s hard to tell when you refuse to speak.”

Right, Sephiroth reminded himself. The brain implant. That was why he felt so…

“You have questions.” He said, rather than dwelling on it.

“A great many.”

“I will answer them all.” Sephrioth slid his eyes over towards Hojo, one still blurry from having his new arm’s microchip inserted past it. “If you permit me to stay with Cloud.”

He couldn’t take it back. All his mistakes up until this point. His idiotic certainty that the Other posed no real danger. But perhaps he could at least ensure that Cloud wasn’t left alone again.

“Hm.” Said Hojo, and the machine drew away, waggling itself in such a way that Sephiroth knew behind the glass Hojo was tapping his own chin. “Very, very interesting.”

“Sephiroth!” Cloud gasped, scrambling to his feet the moment the doors opened.

The desperation in that name made Sephiroth’s stomach flip. He stepped willingly into the glass cage. Let the door hiss closed behind him. He felt stripped bare, and rubbed raw, but…

But looking at Cloud he could almost breathe, except….

Except for the hint of a scar on Cloud’s bare shoulder and—

“Sephrioth!” Cloud choked again, breaking forward towards him.

“Wait,” Sephiroth said, stepping away, backing up against the sealed glass door. “Wait.”

Cloud paused. Stood there, breathing hard, his eyes tracing over Sephiroth’s face. Then down his bare chest. Pausing on the scar in Sephiroth’s stomach. But only for a moment. Then…

“Your arm.” Cloud whispered, staring. Fixated. “Your arm.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s— “ Cloud looked up at him, his expression thunderous. “It’s not fine, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth hesitated. Then slowly looked down at the arm. He’d been avoiding looking at it for the most part. Mako powered the mechanics, green lines racing through the sleek, shining black and silver. A marvel of technology. A nightmare attached to his body.

Better than the alternative.

“Can— Are you here to— To get me out?”

“I’m sorry.” Sephiroth said, watching Cloud’s face fall in miserable horror. “I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Cloud whispered.

“But I can stay.” Sephiroth whispered. “If that will help?”

“Why can’t you—”

“I have to stay until they’ve… Refined this.” Sephiroth nodded down at the arm. “Until they deem I can be seen in public again.”

“But—”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered. “I promise you I would fix it if I could. I _will_ fix it in time.”

“How much time?” Cloud choked.

Sephiroth watched his wild eyes dart around the room. Watched his hands twitch up towards him. Watched the dark fingerprint scars on his shoulder. Sephiroth dragged in a shallow breath, seeing strands of inhuman red and green in that scar. The breath stuck in his throat. Stuck in his stomach. Like he was drowning. He felt the scar on his stomach ache. Lifted his human hand to it uneasily. Touched the raised flesh of his own scar. Rubbery skin, lacing strands of red and green.

Inhuman.

“I’m so sorry.” Sephiroth whispered, when he could speak again. “Forgive me, Cloud. I didn’t— “

He couldn’t speak more. Cloud’s eyes lifted off the mechanical arm. Looked at Sephiroth's face. His brows furrowed, and he stretched out a hand, and,

Sephiroth stepped back. Held out the shaking, near-useless mechanical arm.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again if you touch me.” He whispered in explanation.

Cloud froze. Swallowed. Clearly afraid.  
  
Idiot, Sephiroth thought venemously to himself. Idiot. Why did you even come here? It's you're fault he was ever—  
  
Cloud lifted his hands, inch by inch. Took the metal arm in both his hands, delicate and uncertain. Sephiroth held as still as he could, watching in dizzy confusion and gratitude. The mechanical arm twitched and faltered, but Cloud didn't move away. Cloud stroked his fingers over the false wrist. Carefully leaned his cheek into the smooth metal palm.

Sephiroth let out a slow breath. Stroked his new thumb with concerted effort over Cloud’s cheek. Fighting to move it at all.

“Can you feel this?” Cloud whispered.

“No,” Sephiroth admitted. “But I can see you. You’re right there. That’s enough.”

Cloud didn’t answer, but he closed his eyes. Turned his face into Sephiroth’s metal palm. Held it to his cheek. It must have been cold, Sephiroth thought. It must have been hard. He just stood there. Holding as still as he could. When Cloud curled into the palm, he could see more of the hand-print scar on his shoulder.

“I will get you out,” Sephiroth promised softly. “I swear it.”

“Okay.” Cloud whispered.

He held onto Sephiroth’s arm until he started to waver with exhaustion. Sephiroth lay down near but apart from him. Cloud held onto his robotic hand like a lifeline as he slept. Sephiroth tried to teach his numb metal fingers to hold Cloud’s hand.  
  
He did not let himself sleep.

“Do you know what happened?” Hojo asked. “It’s quite fascinating.”

“Yes.” Sephiroth replied. “Something inside me reacted to something inside Cloud in a way that caused him harm, and I cut my sword arm off to stop it.”

“You get too hung up in the broad strokes, as always,” Hojo said, waving a hand.

Sephiroth hissed in pain as the waving hand of the surgical robot dragged him an inch to the left by his prosthetic arm.

“Hold still,” Hojo scolded him, and Sephiroth gritted his teeth. “No, what is interesting is that your hand, when we recovered it, had _partially melted him_ . Isn’t that fascinating? From the dissection I was able to perform after you rejected the reattachment, it appears that the Trooper’s body was literally trying to _merge_ with yours.”

_‘Reunion_ ,’ sighed the Other in Sephiroth’s mind. _‘He’d have been mine._ ’

“What are S-cells?” Sephiroth asked, pushing that conversation aside. “What did you do to him while he was down here?”

“Nothing I don’t do to every other Soldier who walks through my doors,” Hojo laughed. “A little mako infusion and J-cells. Just like all your little friends. The S-cells though, they are special.”

“What are they?” Sephiroth barked at the glass, frustration welling in him.

“Why, they’re you.” Hojo replied with a laugh. “The cells of my Project-S.”

“It’s bloody,” Cloud observed that night in their cage, dull eyes staring at the join of the prosthetic and Sephiroth’s arm. He reached towards it, but stopped himself before Sephiroth had to pull away.

“He’s just fine tuning it.” Sephiroth said, trying to pretend he hadn’t thrashed against the robotic arms, trying to kill the laughing scientist behind the window.

He was weak. Mako inhibitors, as always in the labs. But worse, the Other. Draining his resources. His energy. Fighting constantly to keep him in check. Wondering always if his other arm, his leg, his heart, his mind, would betray him. Would betray Cloud.

He did not let himself sleep

“I mentioned before having taken note of your unusual behavior of late. I believe I would like an explanation for it now.” Hojo looked bored, poking at the mechanics of the arm with a distasteful expression. “Do be careful not to lie or bore me. I’d hate to take it out on your little friend.”

“I hear a voice in my mind.” Sephiroth replied flatly. “Giving me instructions.”

“A voice? What does it sound like? What does it say?”

_'Go on_ ,' the Other whispered in his ear. ' _Tell him. He is cruel, but he is smart. With him, we can ascend, we can—'_

“Lies.” Said Sephiroth. “It claims to be from the future.”

_'Mother’s cells know no time,'_ the Other scoffed. ' _Be careful, Sephiroth. I may yet slide further back. Perhaps you were more easily influenced as a child.'_

Sephiroth locked the cage tighter in his mind.

“The future? How very interesting. Tell me, what is this voice in your head called?”

“It is nothing.” Sephiroth said, his heart hammering. “It is just myself.”

“Hm.”

He sounded disappointed. He had said— Cloud. Cloud was alone in his cell, and Sephiroth couldn’t—

“It has a wing.” Sephiroth said, feeling foolish. Feeling desperate. “A single wing. Does that mean something to you?”

There. Good. Hojo’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses. Interest. Sephiroth shuddered.

Hojo cut the backs of Sephiroth’s shoulders open, just to check.

“No new scars,” Cloud assured him that night, sitting curled in his corner, inspecting Sephiroth's bare back. “Just the one from Genesis.”

Sephiroth turned back around, letting out a breath. Sat quietly. Offered Cloud his mechanical hand. The fingers opened smoothly. Organically. When he curled them around Cloud’s fingers, they were gentle.

Then he froze, looking at Cloud’s arm.

Needle marks.

“Cloud?” He whispered, staring at them fixedly.

Cloud moved his other hand. Covered his inner elbow.

“It’s okay.” He muttered. “It doesn’t burn so much anymore.”

Sephiroth couldn’t cry. He was, as far as he was aware, physically unable. But he wanted to. He wanted to.

With every injection, the danger he posed to Cloud was greater. If his S-cell count was increasing… What could the Other do to him next time? What could _he_ do to him?

“Breathe,” Cloud urged softly. “Breathe. You’re getting better every day. I can see it in how you move. They have to let you out soon.”

Sephiroth nodded silently, and did not tell Cloud that he would not be released until he was perfect.

That the last time he’d been caught with an imperfection— a twitch in his right eye— they’d kept him in the labs for months working to repair it.

“Now, about my hypothesis. We’ve beaten around the bush enough. Tell me your experience of the reattachment surgery.”

“You didn’t give me pain medication and it was deeply unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant? How amusing.”

“You chopped off significantly more of my arm in trying to re-attach the arm rather than accepting the loss of the limb.”

“You can be so dull sometimes. The rejection of the limb. Why did it happen. What did it feel like?”

“That was not my arm.” Sephiroth snarled.

The Other laughed inside him. Hojo laughed as well.

“It wasn’t my arm.” Sephiroth whispered to Cloud, his knees drawn up to his chest, his mechanical fingers held tightly in both of Cloud’s hands.

“I know,” Cloud whispered, crying for both of them. “I know.”

Sephiroth sat beside Cloud through the long night, eyes on the raised hand-print scar on his shoulder. On the soft glow of his eyes when they flickered open to look at him. On the needle scars on the inside of his elbow.

Sephiroth held Cloud’s hands in metal fingers he could not feel. He did not touch him otherwise.

He did not let himself sleep.

(To be continued...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter marks the halfway point! Thank you all so much for your kudos, your comments, your bookmarks, and your support. We couldn't do this without your enthusiasm. Writing and drawing a piece every day is a heck of an adventure, and we can't thank you all enough for sticking with us. Things look dark now but... Well. At least they're together. There is still such a long way to go...


	17. Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days stretch on, trapped in the labs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly wrote this in a daze and don't remember what happens, but I think it's good? There shouldn't be any new warnings in this chapter, at least? Oh, aside from referenced canonical character deaths!

Cloud got sick on  
On the tenth day  
No, the twelfth— 

No. No. Hold it together. Be stronger than you are.

Cloud was sick. He knew that much. Cloud was sick, and right now he was alone, but Sephiroth would come back. Sephiroth would rest his cool metal hand on Cloud’s too-hot face, and speak softly to him, and that would help. Sephiroth always knew exactly how many days it had been, so Cloud could ask him. He didn’t have to count. He didn’t have to pace.

He just had to curl in his corner and breathe in through his nose, out through his mouth. He just had to stay calm.

_‘Never liked… mako tanks.’_ the face in his hands whispered, sorrowful and distant.

“Sorry,” Cloud told it. “Me neither. But at least it doesn’t leave needle marks.”

_‘Hold as tight... as you can.’_ The face in his hands warned. _‘You’re starting to… drift.’_

“Why?” Cloud asked, curling tighter, staring into the face’s empty eye. “Why is this happening?”

_‘The mako… poison…’_

Cloud stared at the broken face, dazed. It was his face, wasn’t it? It was his face. It was supposed to be—

He turned the face around. Looked at the smooth, empty interior. From this side he could see straight through that blank eye. Like it was made of mesh.

He brought it up to his face like a mask.

_‘Hey,’ said someone who was Zack and not Zack— too old, too ragged, too sad, but Zack. ‘hang in there, okay? I’m gunna get you out of this.’_

_He reached down, and Cloud reached back and—_

Nothing but empty air met his hand. The face, or mask, or whatever it was, was gone. He was all alone.

He wrapped his arms around his knees. The scar on his shoulder pulled with the motion. It still burned sometimes.

He closed his eyes, and tried not to count the days.

“Cloud?” Sephiroth’s voice, worried and small, broke through the haze. Cloud didn’t know how long it had been. Another day? No. He counted his days in feeding times, not Sephiroth. Sometimes Sephiroth was here, sometimes he wasn’t. It had nothing to do with the day.

“‘M here.” Cloud mumbled, forcing his eyes open. Sephiroth was kneeling before him, his expression tense with confusion.

“You’re all green.” Cloud whispered to him in worry.

“Mako addiction?” Sephiroth whispered.

Cloud’s eyes slid down to the cool black metal of Sephiroth’s new left arm. He reached for it blearily, and Sephiroth surrendered it to him at once. Let Cloud grab it, hold it, press his burning face against it.

“Zack was here.” Cloud whispered. “I thought I saw Zack.”

“No.” Sephiroth’s voice was sad and sorry. “Zack isn’t here, Cloud. I know he would come for you if he could. I am certain he is doing his best. I am…”

He trailed off. Swallowed hard. Looked down. Cloud watched him through dazed eyes. That green vision of Sephiroth, staring at the floor.

_‘Listening to things he shouldn’t listen to.’_

“Talk to me?” Cloud asked, holding the cold metal arm like a lifeline. All he could touch of the man he wanted so badly to hold. “I feel…”

He didn’t have a word for how he felt.

“Of course.” Sephiroth said.

His voice was smooth. It always was. It made Cloud tired. He wanted to hang on every word. He wanted to listen. He wanted to treasure the time he was there, with Sephiroth. Not hanging in the green, but real. Inside his body, and with Sephiroth.

Sometimes he wished Sephiroth was made of more metal, so that he could hold more than his left arm.

He hated wishing that. It made him feel queasy, and wrong, and sad. He knelt in his dream, crying green, holding the broken face.

‘You’re starting to unravel,’ the face told him. ‘It’s not your fault. Hold on to what you can.’

“Sephiroth.” Cloud whispered. “Zack. Angeal. Genesis.”

And he didn’t understand why the face’s expression twisted in sorrow.

‘For now,’ the face replied. ‘For now.’

Cloud shook his head. Turned the face over in his hands.

‘You won’t like it.’

Cloud ignored it. Brought the face up to his own like a mask.

He was lying on the floor. Lying on the floor, all alone, and there were two Sephiroth’s, facing off on either side of a rough metal cage. The sort that Hojo put the unruly experiments in. The sort he’d hummed and looked at, back when Cloud was fool enough to fight.

“What did you come back here for at all?” The smaller Sephiroth was asking as he paced outside the cage, his short, messy hair in disarray, his left arm ending abruptly just above his elbow.

‘ _That’s not where he cut himself_ ,’ Cloud whispered.

‘Hush’ his other face replied, now from the outside. _‘_ Be still _.’_

“You know why.” The stronger Sephiroth replied, his eyes bright and his body unharmed, and his wing flaring. “This world is our, Sephiroth. You tie yourself to debris and death and blame me when it harms you.”

“You burned him. You _melted_ him!”

“And melted ourselves into him. An exchange. He will be bound to you, now. You should have kept your arm. Or, better yet, let me finish. We could have shared so much.”

“It was hurting him.”

“Improvement hurts,” The better Sephiroth laughed. “You know that. Progress hurts, change hurts, everything hurts.”

“I changed it, though.” Sephiroth insisted, slashing his hand through the air. “I took your failure, and I changed it.”

“You did nothing.” Spat the strong one through a grin. “You delayed the decay of bodies and thought yourself a martyr for it. They will rot, Sephiroth. They will rot.”

“Why are you on his side?” Sephiroth asked, wounded, confused. “Why Hojo over me? You could go further back, right? You can do this as many times as you want. Why not let me try?”

“How pathetic you look,” The stronger Sephiroth whispered. “Begging for my assistance.”

_‘Doesn’t he see he’s trapped?’_ Cloud asked. _‘He looks stronger, but he’s in a cage.’_

“I’m sorry,” Said the other him, his voice barely a whisper. “Look again.”

Cloud looked. The cage stretched and yawned. And he understood. Sephiroth was on the wrong side of it. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but the other him didn’t let him. 

Too late. The stronger Sephiroth turned towards them, eyes bright. A smile crossed his face that was all wrong. Too bright. Too happy. Too cruel.

“Hello, Cloud.” He purred.

Cloud woke with a gasp. Scrambled, panting, for Sephiroth.

He wasn’t there.

Alone in the room again.  
How long had he slept?  
Why were his dreams so—

“Why are my dreams so real?” he asked the fractured hand, where it lay sadly in his open palm.

_‘You aren’t dreaming. You haven’t dreamed in a long time.’_

“Let me be somewhere else,” Cloud begged in a cracking voice. “Not this room. Not anymore.”

_‘You won’t like… what you see.’_

“Anything else.” Cloud pleaded. “Anything but this.”

He curled up on his side with his own broken face. Pressed it over his eyes.

Zack again. Zack, smiling at him. Reaching out to ruffle his hair. The wind blowing all around them. Cloud was crying. No. The mask was crying. Cloud reached out, but he couldn’t touch Zack. Zack wasn’t there.

He couldn’t hear what made Zack lunge for him. Cover him with his body. Couldn’t hear anything.

He could see his own feet, stumbling. Zack’s sure and steady. Could see his mentor and friend smile at him. Ruffle his hair once more. He couldn’t hear what Zack told him. He could see him walking away. He—

Cloud pulled the mask off his face. The fractured face was crying. Empty eye staring. Broken lips shaking. Cloud pulled the mask to his chest. Hugged it tight. Stared out at the empty green room.

Tried to hold on.

“Spike?”

Zack hovering over him, eyes worried— both eyes— a scar on his cheek. “You doing okay?”

_That’s not me_ , he thought, curling tighter around the fragment of his other self. _That’s not mine._

“Spike, buddy, look at me.”

There’s a body on the ground that hasn’t disappeared.

“No, no, no, no” Cloud whispered, clenching his eyes shut, trying to expel the memories.

The broken face had been right he didn’t want to see, he didn't want to—

“Spike,” Soft fingers on his cheek. Not hard. Not cold. Soft. Warm. “It’s okay.”

Cloud blinked his eyes open. Looked up.

Zack. Eyepatch. Young. Worried.

Cloud scrambled. Threw himself at him. Locked his arms around him. Held on for all he was worth. The face was gone. The mask. Everything was green.

“Please, please, please.” He was whispering, pressed tight against Zack’s body.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Zack pressed his cheek to Cloud’s head. “We’re going home. Genesis and Angeal are getting Sephiroth. It’s okay.”

“Don’t touch him,” Cloud whispered. “They can’t touch him. Make sure they know that.”

“Okay.” Zack said. “Don’t worry. I got it. Think you can climb on so I can carry you?”

_Zack’s feet steady, his feet stumbling, the unfamiliar wall of rocks, the body on the ground—_

“Don’t go.” Cloud whispered, tangling his hand in his friend’s hair. “Don’t go.”

“You’re coming with me.” Zack promised. Shifted his hand up into Cloud’s hair, then scooped him up just like that. No piggy back rides, no arm-over-the-shoulder stumbling together. Just Cloud holding onto his best friend with all he was worth, and Zack carrying him like he was nothing.

Everything was green. Almost everything. Cloud lay his head on Zack’s shoulder, trying to breathe. Tucked into the strap of Zack’s eyepatch was a flower. White and pale and pretty. Fresh. Cloud could smell it, just a little.

It made him feel better. Even as he drifted.

“Here,” there was something warm in his hands. He took it. “Drink. Slowly, Trooper.”

“Sir.” He mumbled. He trusted that voice. He took a careful sip. It was nice. It was green. Everything was—

“How long has he been like this?” A sharper voice. Spined and barbed. Still okay. Familiar. Safe.

“Days now.”

“Sephiroth.” Cloud gasped, jerked his head up, searched for him.

“Right here.” Sephiroth strode over in a rush. Dropped to one knee. Stroked his hand over Cloud’s hair. His face. His hand was cool. Familiar.

Cloud swallowed. Nodded. Yes. Sephiroth was here. This was…

“Drink,” that first voice reminded. Cloud dragged his eyes up. “Having something in your stomach will help with the mako.”

“Angeal.” Cloud identified softly, letting his eyes trail over the room. “Genesis. Where’s—”

“Zack?” Genesis asked. “Bringing you both clothes. And some journal of Sephiroth’s.”

“You asked to know what’s going on, I need it to explain.” Sephiroth’s words were plain and cut, but his tone was soft. Worried. Cloud leaned into his palm. The stroke of his cold metal thumb.

“He’s been in and out still.” Sephiroth added, looking to Angeal. “He’ll recover?”

“It’s very likely. Food, water, safety, rest.”

“Stubbornness.” Genesis added. “Strife has that in spades.”

“Rude.” Cloud muttered, sipping the warm drink.

“See?” Genesis said.

“Sephiroth, that hand-print on his shoulder…”

“It’s mine. Yes.”

“Hm. Your left. Which is now—”

“No longer a problem.”

“Zack says he warned us not to touch you.”

“Probably wise.” Sephiroth agreed in a murmur. “No way of knowing who of you could be affected.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Cloud added, trying to keep up. How long had it been since he’d had to keep up with a conversation. “That wasn’t him. Right? It was that… That nightmare one.”

Sephiroth swallowed hard. Cloud’s vision was green, but he saw the awful, frightened expression on Sephiroth’s face.

“You know him?” He asked softly.

“He hurts my reflection sometimes.” Cloud whispered. “He’s the one who broke my mask.”

“I genuinely can’t tell how much of this is addled nonsense.” Genesis commented.

“Shh.” Angeal shouldered Genesis. 

They stood close by. Guarding. They were in— Cloud was on— 

“My sofa.” He whispered, blinking down at it.

“Drink your soup first,” Angeal said, moving closer, putting his hands under Cloud’s, steering the cup towards his mouth again. “Then you can sleep.”

“I don’t dream anymore.” Cloud told him, after taking another slow drink. Blinked. Took a second drink. Made a face. “This tea is terrible.”

“It’s soup.” Angeal said again, though there was a soft laugh in his voice. “So yeah. Pretty terrible tea.”

“Sit down, Sephiroth.” Genesis’s moved closer. “You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. Sit. I’ll get you some of Angeal’s ‘terrible tea’ too.”

“Cloud?” Angeal’s voice. Warm and strong. A wide hand on his shoulder. The one without a scar. “Something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Cloud whispered, tears on his cheeks. “Something’s sad about this. I don’t know what.”

“It’s okay,” Genesis was crouched in front of Sephiroth. “Just let us help, you bastard. Don’t act all untouchable. When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know.”

“Slept?”

“I don’t…”

“Sit down.”

Sephiroth sat. Shifted till his back was against the sofa. Then, slowly, curled. Dragged his feet across the carpet till his knees were to his chest. Pressed his forehead to them. Breathed too deep, his bare back rising and falling heavily. Cloud watched his human hand twitch, limp at his side. The mechanical hand didn’t twitch. It lay heavy and immobile.

“Share mine?” Cloud offered the cup of broth.

Sephiroth looked up at his voice, silver hair hanging in his face, his expression despondent. Lost. But he lifted his metal hand. Took the cup carefully. Sipped from it under Cloud’s watchful eye.

“Terrible tea,” He agreed softly. “But nice soup. Thank you, Cloud.”

“Finish it.” Cloud ordered, sitting back on the sofa with a slow sigh, blinking up at the ceiling. “I might have been confused, but I know you’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Your arm’s off.”

“And I have acclimated to the prosthetic.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Drink your soup, Cloud.”

“There’s more than one cup in the world, you absolutely exhausting disasters.” Genesis snapped, reappearing and pushing a new mug of broth into Cloud’s hands. “Honestly!”

“Breathe, Gen.” Angeal said softly. “Gotta stay calm.”

“I am calm. This is me calm.”

“Is something wrong?” Sephiroth asked them, curled at the foot of the sofa, eyes hooded, cradling the cup of soup like an old friend.

Genesis and Angeal exchanged a look. It linked a moment. Then Angeal spoke.

“Yes,” he said. “But nothing immediate. You and Cloud eat. Rest up if you can. We’ll talk about everything soon.”

“Does this count as eating?” Cloud asked, summoning a smirk for his old ‘roommate.’ “It’s soup so—”

“If you start the ‘soup isn’t food’ argument again, so help me Trooper I will fight you.” Angeal warned with a low chuckle. Reached out and ruffled Cloud’s hair. Cloud felt unduly ruffled by it, but it was nice. Angeal’s hand was made of flesh too. Like Zack’s. Some part of him had forgotten.

“How long were we down there?” He asked, looking towards Sephiroth.

He looked just in time to see Genesis carefully lifting the mug from Sephiroth’s limp hand.

“Blankets still in the hallway?” Genesis asked in a whisper, already standing.

“Same as ever.” Angeal replied. “I can get it. Keep an eye on this one.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Cloud asked, panic gnawing on the inside of his chest.

“He’s exhausted.” Genesis replied with a shrug, switching into Angeal’s place, crouching beside him. “Hungry, brutalized. He’s always like this after… After he’s been away for a while. He just needs to sleep it off.”

“Should we… Should we not be talking?”

“Unlikely to wake him unless we’re screaming. He was like this in Wutai too. As soon as he feels safe, lights out.”

“Cute.” Cloud muttered, taking another sip of broth. He glanced down. It looked a little browner than it had a minute ago. Less green…

“Cloud.” Genesis said, voice low and serious. “Did he hurt you? Do we need to take you somewhere away from him?”

Cloud was already shaking his head. Reached out and tugged lightly on Genesis’s earring, eliciting a grunt of protest from him and a light slap on the wrist.

“You’re sweet. But no. I’m fine. He tried his best to keep me safe. Gave his arm up for it. There’s something in our blood. Something Hojo did. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Did you just call me _sweet_?” Genesis hissed, offended.

“Was he hurt?” Cloud asked softly. “When you went to help him? Zack said you went to him. I don’t know what Hojo did outside of—”

Genesis still looked disgruntled, but he set it aside. Glanced back as Angeal returned with armfuls of blankets.

“Hojo’s out of town.” Genesis said. “Unavoidable trip to some backwater nowhere. Courtesy of Zack’s last favor with the Turks. Sephiroth was in a mako tank.”

“Ah.” Cloud said wearily. “Storage.”

Genesis shuddered. Angeal was carefully arranging a blanket around Sephiroth’s shoulders without touching him. Then he stood, walking behind Cloud, dropping a blanket lightly around his shoulders as well.

“I think I’m really enhanced now.” Cloud said flatly. “He had me run some tests. I can do things I shouldn’t be able to do.”

“We’ll know once your mako glow settles.” Genesis replied. Patting Cloud’s cheek patronizingly. Cloud would normally have leaned away, but…

Sephiroth’s cold hand on his cheek and—

He accidentally leaned into the touch instead, till Genesis was cupping his cheek with the strangest look on his face. Something a little sick and sorry, even though he wasn’t pulling away.

“Thanks for coming.” Cloud said.

“Sorry it took us.” Angeal replied. “Get some rest, Cloud. You’ll feel better.”

“I already feel better.”

“Then you’ll feel _perfect_.” Genesis groused. “Just lie down.”

Cloud didn’t like following orders from Genesis without pushing back, at least a little. But that one sounded like a good idea. He passed his mug over to Angeal and carefully curled up on the sofa, eyes on Sephiroth’s exhausted form, curled still sitting at the foot of the sofa. As close as he could be to Cloud without touching.

“It really wasn’t his fault.” Cloud whispered once more. "He's doing his best."

"We know, Cloud." Angeal murmured. "We know."


	18. Dirty Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue conversation takes place.

"I don't know how to begin." Sephiroth said, sitting at the table and staring listlessly down at the journal he'd asked Zack to bring back for him.

"You could go with the whole 'I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here today.' That's a classic."

"Zack," Angeal sighed. "Not right now."

"I... didn't call you all here. It's Angeal's apartment. I assume he invited--"

"It's just a saying." Angeal interrupted quickly. “Less joking, puppy.”

Sephiroth's eyes were so tired. Even his confusion sounded weary. Angeal had never seen him so tired. So dispirited...

Cloud had bounced back quickly from the mako addiction. No doubts about that. He sat near Sephiroth, nursing his cup of tea. Sometimes his eyes wandered off to look at something on the wall, but he came back quickly now. When Zack had first carried him into the apartment, Angeal had thought...

Well. They'd lost people to the Mako before.

Now he and Genesis were both looking at the book. The gun in the room. The only thing Sephiroth had asked for since. They kept glancing up to each other, as if the two of them 

“Just start at the beginning.” Angeal encouraged, fighting the urge to reach across the table.

So far Sephiroth had reacted badly to any attempts to touch him.

“It was just before that damned Avalanche plan of yours, wasn’t it.” Genesis prompted when Sephiroth remained silent. “You’ve never done anything like that before.”

“You won’t believe me.” Sephiroth murmured.

“Why did you come to the trooper locker room?” Cloud said into the silence, his voice hard and strong. Not the dreamy, strange way he’d been talking earlier, but his own voice again. Stubborn. “Why did you say that about ‘I hope you’re Cloud?’ Why did you even bother with me?”

“Bother with you?” Sephiroth repeated, turning disturbed eyes to Cloud. “No. I— You are not a—”

“I’m not looking for reassurance. I’m looking for _answers_ .” Cloud insisted. “You’ve been dancing around all of us like we’re in your way. Well the dance is _over_ , Sephiroth. Something is _clearly_ wrong, so _do_ something about it! Your friends are here, just waiting to help.”

Angeal watched the way Sephiroth shrank under the words. Watched how his eyes moved as Cloud berated him. How the darted from Cloud to the table and back. Never to any of the rest of them.

“Why won’t you look at us?” Genesis asked, just on the worried edge of venomous.

Sephiroth didn’t answer. Reached out. Opened the book with his flesh hand. Stared down at the first page.

“Anywhere you start will be a start,” Angeal advised after a long moment, feeling Genesis seething at his side. “We’re listening.”

“Almost exactly six months ago, a different version of myself appeared in my mind.” Sephiroth said, his voice flat. “He claimed to be from the future. Of course I assumed it was some form of hallucination or strange dream. Until this.”

He pulled a series of folded pages out of the book. Slid them across the table to Genesis. Still didn’t look up.

“Three missions, five weeks apart. The first seven pages are his predictions, the last seven are the full text of the mission reports. Every aspect is the same. Word for word. You’ll find the pages dated.”

“This is an extremely strange joke.” Genesis warned, glancing down at the papers.

“He is not a joke.” Sephiroth said, eyes on the journal. “His instructions ranged from the mundane to the extremely specific. He instructed me to find Cloud. To make contact with Avalanche. All manner of things which I would never have considered otherwise.”

“Wait,” Zack said, “are you saying Cloud’s only alive because you had a weird vision of—”

“He’s not a vision.” Sephiroth said grimly. “He is very real, and very dangerous.”

“To your mental health maybe.” Genesis accused. “You went to Avalanche because some future version of yourself told you to? You sound like an idiot, and yet I _know_ you aren’t.”

Angeal reached out for the book. Sephiroth pushed it to him silently.

“I cannot prove it to you.” Sephiroth whispered. “He is no longer on my side. I can only tell you the first set of reports were written weeks ahead of the missions actually occurring.”

“So…” Angeal flipped through pages. “The ‘O’ in these notes is—”

“I refer to him as the Other for clarity.” Sephiroth looked towards Angeal. Or more, towards the table before him. “But he is me. Or some version of me. After the mission reports I began to keep detailed records of his interactions with me. It quickly became clear that his main interest was in controlling me.”

Angeal hummed. Looked down at the book.

“What’s he like?” Zack was asking, clearly confused. “You said he’s you, right? You don’t get along?”

“No,” Sephiroth was saying as Angeal skimmed the words. Flipped through pages and pages. He paused on a page towards the end of the book. A handwritten appendix titled [Deaths.]

Sephiroth had written:

~~_Save one?_ _Which?_~~

But he had crossed it out. Below it he’d written

_Unacceptable losses._

Angeal could feel his heart beating. He couldn’t hear what Genesis and Sephiroth were arguing about. He was looking at the next lines.

[Need more information. Moving forward with Shinra destabilization and Cloud augmentation, as advised.]

Cloud augmentation.

Cloud—

“You.” Angeal whispered, lifting his fixed stare to Sephiroth. Shoved the book back towards him. “Did you—”

Sephiroth wouldn’t lift his eyes. He swallowed hard, staring at his own journal. Cloud was staring at Angeal with worry in his eyes. Cloud, who had been so relieved that anyone had come for him. Cloud, who had been so touched by Sephiroth’s concern. Who’d stayed up late whispering secrets about Ballet while Angeal and Genesis and Zack had listened in to make sure he was alright. Their Cloud. Brave and bold and—

_‘I can go in as a distraction. Keep them busy, cause a little fuss. I know I’m not much, but I want to help him.’_

“Did you send Cloud down there?” Angeal asked, his voice unwavering. Unflinching.

Sephiroth didn’t move. Stared into his tea.

Angeal watched the shift on Cloud’s face. The confusion. Then the hurt. Beside him, Zack dragged in a breath. Shocked. Horrified. Genesis was the fastest to words.

“You sick _fuck!_ ” He screamed. Stood from his place at the table, furious eyes fixed on Sephiroth. “You knew? You knew where he was? You _sent him there_ then pretended you were in the dark? For _days?_ ”

“Yes.” Sephiroth whispered.

“How could you?” Zack now, his voice agony. “How could you, you had to know they would hurt him! What— What was so great you would risk _Cloud_ over it? I thought you liked him!”

“I do.”

“The hell you do!” Genesis screamed. “You don’t throw people you like to the fucking _science department!_ ”

“Enough!”

The table went silent. All eyes but Sephiroth’s turned to Cloud. To Cloud, sitting pale, but strong. Breathing hard, but steady.

“Enough.” Cloud repeated, turning his eyes from them to Sephiroth. Sephiroth with his head hanging. With his book open before him. With his hand shaking on the pages.

Cloud reached out. Took Sephiroth’s prosthetic in both his hands. Held on.

“Talk to me.” He urged the man, as if the rest of them weren’t there. “I’ll believe you.”

Sephiroth lifted his head slowly. Met Cloud’s eyes. His expression... 

It hurt to look at. Angeal averted his eyes.

“I didn’t want to.” Sephiroth whispered.

“Okay,” Cloud squeezed his hand.

“Cloud—” Zack objected, reaching for his friend.

“No.” Said Cloud. “Let him talk.”

But Sephiroth didn’t seem able. He was just looking at Cloud like his chest was cracking itself open. Just staring at the trooper like the sky was falling and—

“Tell me,” Cloud whispered. “You didn’t want to. I believe you. So why?”

Sephiroth took a slow breath. Then turned the page. Back, and back and back.

“The thirty fourth dream.” Sephiroth murmured. Pushed it closer to Cloud.

Cloud leaned forward. Took a slow breath. Read aloud.

“The Other has shown me a vision of Genesis, Angeal, and Zack, all dead. He says they are already corpses and— Sephiroth, this is—”

“And I should concern myself with their survivor, Cloud Strife.” Sephiroth completed for him.

The table went silent. Angeal took a slow breath.

“And sacrificing Cloud?”

“I needed information.” Sephiroth’s voice was shaking. Angeal couldn’t remember hearing his voice shake before. “He wouldn’t tell me when, or how, or why. Only that you turned on me, and you died. I needed— I thought— “

“Breathe,” Cloud murmured, remarkably calm.

Sephiroth followed the order. Let it out slowly.

“I still thought he could be reasoned with. That if I gave what ground I could, he would provide me more information.”

“He didn’t.” Cloud guessed.

“No. I waited longer than I should have.”

“You shouldn’t have done it at _all_.” Zack objected, shaking his head hard. “Cloud’s not some sacrifice you get to—”

“I knew Cloud would live and you would die, what did you want me to do?” Sephiroth snapped, pushing away from the table. Pacing. He grabbed the journal, turning the pages. “I’ve pieced it together bit by bit, as best I can. Angeal is first.”

Angeal watched him move. Tried to pretend it didn’t make his blood run cold.

“Me?” He asked, despite himself. Sephiroth paused his pacing. He still wouldn’t look at the table. He was just staring at the wall. When he spoke again it was in the dull voice he used for mission reports.

“You and Genesis have some sickness. I do not know the nature.” He said. “The Other simply says you ‘rot.’ From some of his more tasteless jokes I have inferred that Zack is the one to actually kill you. Apparently forced to by your own actions.”

“What?” Zack gasped. His hand darted out. Clamped down on Angeal’s forearm. “No.”

Sephiroth ignored them. “Genesis is next. The same illness. I do not know the details of your death. I believe I personally play a role.”

Genesis said nothing. Sat in silence, blue eyes burning.

“Then Zack.” Sephiroth turned a page. “Something to do with protecting Cloud. I did make note that in the dream of the future your corpse was riddled by gunfire.”

Zack took a deep breath at Angeal’s side, and Angeal reached out to him as well. Put a hand on his back.

“But it _has_ changed!” Sephiroth turned to them with something more like energy. More like fervor. “The Avalanche rescue, Zack’s eye, Cloud’s experience in the labs, the training accident— They’re new. He doesn’t know them. Things have changed, and—”

“What about the training accident?” Angeal asked, eyes on Sephiroth. There was something off. Something wrong.

 _You’re one to talk,_ he reminded himself.

“It wasn’t supposed to be me.” Sephiroth’s eyes lifted to him at last, too-bright. They looked like they hurt. “I think I was supposed to do something, and you were both supposed to turn on me, but you didn’t. All of you are supposed to—”

He went silent again. Shut down in a moment. Looked to Cloud, and Angeal followed his gaze. Cloud was watching him. Still. Quiet. Watching. 

“You wanted to save them,” Cloud said softly. “I get it. I can’t… Say I’m fine with it, but… I wish you’d told me.”

“I couldn't.” Sephiroth whispered, standing there in the middle of the room, the journal held loosely in his remaining hand. “I had to— You were all going to… turn on me and…”

“And maybe we were right to.” Genesis said, lifting his eyes. “Did that ever cross your mind? That if everyone you knew and cared for turned on you and died that maybe there was something about _you_ that you should be concerned with?”

Sephiroth’s eyes flicked to Genesis. Stared. Angeal watched him swallow.

“Why did you do it?” Genesis asked, his voice deadly quiet. “Not just Cloud. Why did you listen in the first place? What did he have that you wanted so badly?”

Sephiroth was silent. He looked down to the book in his hands. Turned to the first page. Held it out silently to Genesis.

His hand was shaking. His eyes were downcast. He didn’t look up as Genesis took the book from him.

“You’ll be happy.” Genesis read aloud. “That’s it? You’ll be happy?”

Sephiroth blinked down at the ground. He didn’t cry. Angeal seemed to remember him mentioning once that he couldn’t.

“You aren’t happy?” Zack asked, confusion and concern at war in his voice.

Genesis paged through the book, quick eyes flicking through the words.

“Other is joyous, other is smiling, other is laughing, other is happy, other is— Sephiroth this is—”

“Stupid.” Sephiroth whispered. “I know. It was stupid. I wanted it. I didn’t care how he’d— I’d— gotten that way. I just wanted it, so I tried to take it. Just like everything else. Even you.”

He looked to Cloud as he said it. Cloud, who swallowed hard.

“Okay.” Cloud whispered. “So what now?”

“I guess you all decide if you still want me around.” Sephiroth said.

He’s trying so hard, Angeal thought, watching his cold, stoic friend stand there by the table, his one metal arm weighing so heavy that it was dragging his posture slightly to one side. He’s trying so hard.

“If we don’t choose you, are you going to kill us?” Genesis asked, cold and clear.

Sephiroth blinked. Kept his eyes on the ground.

“I hope not.” He said. “But if you do, I may be a danger as well. I did not intend to burn Cloud’s shoulder, but I did. My body is not mine alone. Neither is my mind. I let it go too far in the hopes of finding a solution, and now…”

“Cloud?” Angeal said softly. “Your call.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Cloud asked, lifting eyes that were glowing and furious to him. Turned them to Genesis as well. “Have you been listening to a single word Sephiroth said?”

Angeal saw Sephiroth’s shoulders hunching. Saw him shutting down.

“He’s supposed to be your _friend!_ ” Cloud snapped, inches from screaming.

Angeal blinked. Turned his gaze to Cloud. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. Was Cloud—

“You’re angry at us?” He asked in clarification.

“Yes!” Cloud snapped. “Obviously! He was so unhappy he was willing to try anything and you just… Don’t care? Obviously I’m mad he didn’t talk to me sooner, but if I’d known he sent me down there to try to save your stupid lives I’d have signed up in a heartbeat! Idiots! Assholes!”

The last he screamed, slamming his hands down on the table. Genesis was gaping. Zack stifled a startled laugh.

“Cloud—” Sephiroth murmured. “It’s fine.”

“You always say that when you’re hurt.” Cloud snapped at him, going to his side, grabbing his metal hand and squeezing it.

Angeal took a slow, slow breath. Even keel, he reminded himself. Even keel.

“I think you’re right about the sickness.” He said, trying to stay calm. “Genesis and I…”

He couldn't finish. He still couldn’t… Wrap his head around it.

“That’s alright,” Genesis whispered. “I’ll tell it. We all know I’m the better storyteller here. While we looked for you two, Zack… Mentioned is putting it nicely. Zack informed us we were behaving strangely.”

“Genesis wouldn’t say anything but Loveless quotes and Angeal was starting to get suicidal.” Zack said, fighting to make the words sound playful. He squeezed Angeal’s arm tighter. Angeal set his hand on top of the puppy’s. Patted his fingers lightly.

“They wouldn’t let me give blood to you when you were hurt. Did you know that?” Genesis asked Sephiroth. “I’d started pestering Hollander then. So we pestered him a great deal more after that realization. He calls it ‘degradation.’ Our genes, our bodies… They’re turning on us.”

“Because we’re science experiments.” Angeal said softly. “And apparently you are too.”

Sephiroth swallowed.

“Are... You better now? Could he help?”

“No.” Genesis said with a soft chuckle. “No. He was useless. So here we are. With the best medical opinion on our condition being ‘try not to get emotional’ and a promise that he would look into it.”

“So that’s it?” Cloud asked. “We wait for some guy to tell us how to fix you, and I go back to sleeping on couches until the next disaster leads to me in the labs, and Sephiroth hopes he doesn’t have to cut any other limbs off?”

“What do you suggest?” Angeal asked. “I’m genuinely asking, Cloud. This is your situation as much as any of ours. What do you think?”

“I think…” Cloud said slowly. “I think that Shinra hates paperwork, and they don’t give two shits about any of us. Zack?”

Zack’s eyes were bright when Angeal looked at him.

“I think they’d rather fight about whether a glass eye or a mechanical headpiece would look better than ask whether I want one.” Zack said, lifting a finger. “Genesis?”

“I think they’d rather cut our tongues out than offer us counseling or have any one of us say a tenth of the things we’ve seen here.” Genesis leaned forward on one elbow. “Angeal?”

“I think it sounds like we’ve already died following this path once.” Angeal said softly, then lifted his gaze slowly. “Sephiroth?”

“It’s dangerous to take me with you.” Sephiroth whispered.

Angeal shook his head.

“Cloud’s right. You’re our friend. You didn’t trust us enough to talk to us—”

“That’s not—”

“Sephiroth. We’re here now. Let’s try.”

Sephiroth let out a slow breath, then gave a small nod. When he was one nodding, he straightened. Stood taller than he had since he left the lab. Visibly recovered himself, piece by piece.

“Then we leave.” He said. “Shinra, Midgar, all of it. We find someone who can help you.”

“And a way to help you too.” Angeal said. “To stop that thing in your head.”

“Um,” Said Zack.

Angeal took a deep breath. _Even keel, even keel…_

“I… sort of have a girlfriend,” Zack said sheepishly.

“I understand.” Angeal said flatly. “Thank you for your help this far, Zack. Things might have gone very wrong without you. This was never really your problem, so—”

“What? No. Angeal. Stop it.” Zack thwacked him on the arm. “I was just going to say— Think I can invite her along?”

Late that night, with Sephiroth’s notebook torn into packing lists and planning papers, Angeal woke briefly to the sounds of voices in the living room. He didn’t like to eavesdrop but concern for Cloud made him listen in. The hand-print on his arm, the note in Sephiroth’s journal. That betrayal…

“He has a wing, right?” Cloud whispered. “The Other.”

“Yes.” Sephiroth whispered in return. “You have seen him.”

“Yes. Is.. Do you know—”

“The other Cloud. Yes. He’s… I wish I could help him.”

“He knew, I think. That you sent me down there.”

“I’m—”

“I know. He told me you cared anyway. I trust him. And I trust you. Just… No more secrets. Okay?”

“Ready to tell the others about our ballet lessons then?”

“Hm. Okay, _one_ secret.”

There was soft laughter. Angeal let out a slow breath. It was going to be different from here without a doubt. That didn’t mean it would be worse.


	19. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long journey begins with some tension...

_“Well, we all know where to avoid, right?” Genesis had said, spreading out the world map from his library across Angeal’s table._

_“Kalm,” Angeal and Sephiroth had dutifully chorused._

_“What?” Zack blinked. Looked between the three of them with his visible eyebrow furrowed. “Why? What’s in Kalm?”_

_“Generally, Shinra spies waiting to pick up anyone who’s trying to escaped from Midgar.”_

_“What, seriously?”_

_“Seriously.” Sephiroth smirked. Chuckled. “Never go to Kalm.”_

_“Boring town anyway.” Genesis said flippantly. “What’s the plan?”_

* * *

“So,” Aerith said slowly. “Camping trip?”

“To start,” Zack replied happily, wandering towards the wall beside her. “But again, don’t know when or if we’ll ever come back. So if you don’t want to come—”

“Zack. I told you. I’m coming.” She threaded her arm through his, stepping a little closer to his side. “Now where are your big scary Soldier friends?”

“Waiting at the wall,” Zack chuckled. “Take it easy on them, okay?”

She hesitated just a moment as they approached him. Gripped Zack’s arm. Zack looked at the little huddle of Soldiers. Genesis sitting perched and reading on a broken tank, half-buried in the rubble. Angeal standing at ease, talking to Cloud about something. Sephiroth standing a little ways apart, looking away from them, towards the wall.

“You trust them?” She asked in a whisper.

Zack hesitated. Considered. He had a million thoughts in his head. Most of them were of protecting the others. Angeal. There couldn’t possibly be some future where he killed them, could there? He was _Angeal_! But he hadn’t been himself, that was true. And Genesis was… Well, Genesis. And Sephiroth...

No. Zack shook away the doubt. Let his smile return. No. Because when he’d talked to (or, well, yelled at) Genesis and Angeal they had listened. They had taken action based on his words. Even if it hadn’t fixed it, they’d listened. And they’d been trying so hard since then. As for Sephiroth… Cloud trusted him, and Cloud had a lot more reason to doubt.

“Yes.” He said. “I do.”

“Took you a long time to think about it.” Aerith pointed out, straightening up and stepping forward again.

“Didn’t want you to say it was rash and impulsive.” Zack replied, falling into step with her.

“So… Blond one is Cloud, redhead Genesis, white haired guy is Sephiroth, and the one who looks like your dad is Angeal?”

“He doesn’t look like my dad!” Zack laughed. He felt lighter. Ten times lighter. Aerith’s presence lit him up like a lightbulb.

Cloud looked over at them first, that uneasy glow still in his eyes. He hadn’t finished absorbing all the mako Hojo had inflicted on him. But he lifted a hand. Gave a small wave. Angeal followed his gaze, nodding to Zack and Aerith. Genesis followed their gaze, snapping his book shut and dropping off the tank, landing lightly.

Sephiroth tilted his head towards them, but kept his eyes on the wall. Considering.

“Hey guys,” Zack said warmly. “This is Aerith. Aerith, Cloud, Genesis, Angeal, Sephiroth, and me! Zack. Your boyfriend!”

“Who?” She said, grinning at him before giving him a light shove with her shoulder. “Nice to meet the fellow runaways! I should let you all know that I’ll probably be followed by the Turks.”

“Oh, cool.” Cloud said. “Us too.”

“We should go.” Sephiroth murmured. “Unless you require more time to prepare miss…?”

“Aerith is fine,” She said, her smile not faltering, even as Sehpiroth’s eyes slid to her. “And nope! I’ve got my bag, my staff, and five handsome bodyguards. I’m ready to go!” 

Cloud scoffed. Genesis lifted an eyebrow. Angeal lifted a fist to cover his laugh. Sephiroth hummed, slid his eyes over at last.

“I thought you were our bodyguard.” He said wryly.

Aerith laughed, even as her hand clenched down on Zack’s arm in surprise at the sight of Sephiroth’s eyes.

“Thoughts on the wall?” Genesis asked. “Can you cut it down?”

“I think you had better, if you’re able.” Sephiroth replied. “I’m still working on control with this thing.” He lifted his left hand, well-hidden below long sleeves and a glove, even below the cloaks they had all donned

“Well, you only had to ask.” Genesis scoffed, clearly preening a bit. “Let’s go.”

* * *

At first, everything was… Honestly great. The wastes outside Midgar were no one’s favorite, but they’d left at night, when it was cool and dark. Cloud and Aerith hit it off, just like Zack had known they would. Sephiroth was quiet, sure, but no more than usual. Angeal and Genesis joked and muttered. 

They headed Northeast, towards the river and the small mountain ranges just east of Kalm without hitting the town itself. At nights they camped, and Angeal cooked over the fire.

Genesis mentioned it first, his eyes glowing dully as evening fell on their second night of the trip. He brought it up while Sephiroth was out hunting. HE prefered to do it alone. Probably, Zack had inferred, because his hand was still difficult to fight with. Skewering rabbits was probably good training.

“He isn’t talking.” Genesis said, his voice low. “Doesn’t that worry anyone else?”

Zack glanced to Angeal, the only other one Genesis had involved in the conversation. Angeal’s eyes were bright, and he hummed softly.

“It’s a lot.” Angeal said softly. “Try to be patient.”

Zack glanced back at the others. Aerith had gotten the fire going by herself, and was chasing Cloud around it trying to convince him to high five her while Cloud insisted over and over that he simply did not know how to do that. Zack let a smile creep onto his face watching them.

“He’s been okay,” He objected. “Remember how quiet he was after I showed up? He takes some time to get used to new people and situations.”

“Except Cloud,” Genesis admitted with a smile breaking onto his face.

Zack snorted. Split into a grin. “Yeah, except Cloud. Let’s just try to include him? Get him to open up a little? I’ll get Aerith on board too. She’ll love it, messing with people is her favorite.”

“So I see.” Genesis chuckled as Aerith tried to pry Cloud’s hand up from his side.

Cloud was definitely enhanced. She had to brace one foot on his leg and put her back into it, and even then she only pried his hand up once he started laughing and surrendered.

“Everything okay?” Aerith asked softly while Angeal was getting things ready and Cloud was butchering Sephiroth’s catches.

“Guys are just worried about Seph.” Zack said, shifting his stance. “Can’t say I blame them. He’s had a rough time recently. We’re just… Gunna try to involve him a little more.”

“He is quiet.” Aerith said softly. “I’ll… Admit he’s a little scary. The flowers… Well. I’ll try to help out if I can.”

“What do they say?” Zack asked, lifting a hand to the flower he wore behind his ear. The one that never seemed to wilt.

“Hmmm…” Aerith rocked on her heels. “I dunno if I should say.”

“It’s okay.” Zack chuckled, gesturing. “He’s busy.”

Aerith followed his gaze, over to where Sephrioth was wrinkling his nose, staring down at Cloud’s work, halfway through saying something. Cloud laughed at him, loud enough that they could hear them even from out on their walk.

“They say the world rolls off his back like raindrops.” Aerith whispered softly, sorrowfully. “That if he gives an inch, the whole world will pay.”

“Do you believe them?” Zack asked her softly.

“I do,” she murmured, summoning a small smile. “But I think that you could say the same about a lot of people. You know?”

“Huh.” Zack considered it, looking up at the dark sky. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

It wasn’t until they were walking back to camp together that Zack saw Angeal, looking out at the sky, far closer than Zack had thought he was.

“Sooo,” Aerith said the next day as they walked, wandering beside Sephiroth. “Soldier doesn’t have any marching songs?”

Sephiroth gave a soft huff of laughter.

“None fit for present company.” He murmured.

“I grew up in the slums, you know!” She objected. “I can handle some naughty words!”

“Oh, I meant Genesis.” Sephiroth said, his voice so smooth it was impossible to tell if he was joking or not. “He hates those things.”

Aerith laughed, and Zack was sure he wasn’t imagining the way Sephiroth’s shoulders relaxed a touch. Or, one of his shoulders, at least. The other was tense under his travelling cloak. Had been the whole time. The arm was too heavy, Cloud had mentioned. Zack believed it. He knew what the damn headset they’d tried on him had felt like before he’d said _‘how about just an eyepatch for now? The ladies will love it.’_

But Sephiroth didn’t speak more. Not to Genesis when he tried to start a fight over loveless, or Cloud when he sidled closer and started holding his metal hand again. When Zack tried to talk to him, Sephiroth had murmured ‘not now please?’ and Zack had accepted that. That was much politer than he’d expected, honestly, and it set him a little at ease.

Until Angeal murmured something to him, and Sephiroth pulled harshly away. Muttered something about scouting ahead and vanished. They came across the bodies of monsters for the rest of the day, and Aerith lamented the lack of opportunity to practice cracking heads with her staff.

They were nearly there that night, after a long day of walking. One more day and they should meet the river. Be able to take a little time. Make real plans. Aerith pulled off her boots by the fire and winced, prodding at her new blisters.

“Can I?” Zack asked, brandishing his cure materia.

“Better not,” Sephiroth warned from nearby. “We’re going to be walking a lot. If you just heal them away, they won’t get tougher.”

“So you want people to hurt now?” 

Sephiroth went stiff. Glanced over. Angeal was standing nearby, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

“That’s not what I said.” Sephiroth argued, shaking his head. “She’s a capable young woman, I—”

“You think a great deal about the arguments you’re going to make to defend yourself.” Angeal said. “You always have. Every question we ever asked, every concern we had. Did you ever answer honestly? Or is this all just some weird PR spin for your bad decisions?”

“Angeal!” Zack objected.

“I think I should take a walk.” Sephiroth said, standing from the fireside.

A flash of steel answered him. Aerith screamed, high and startled, as Angeal flew forward, sword out. Sephiroth lifted his prosthetic arm. Blocked with a scream of metal.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Sephiroth murmured.

“I won’t give you a _choice_!”

“Angeal, stop!” Zack commanded as Angeal pressed forward, shoved Sephiroth back and away from the fire.

Still out. He’d insisted on hunting that evening. That Sephiroth had been taking on too much. Which he had been. Of course he had been.

“Genesis,” Zack tried, turning to him as Angeal swung again, and Sephiroth twisted away, moving back.

Genesis was staring into the fire, smiling quietly. He looked up at Zack, but only shook his head slowly, whispering “dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul.”

“Fuck,” Zack whispered. “Gen, focus up. Even keel, man. Steady yourself out. Aerith, babe, I have to—”

_‘I have inferred that Zack is the one to actually kill you. Apparently forced to by your own actions.’_

“Zack,” Aerith was saying near him. “Zack! What’s wrong?”

Zack couldn’t make himself move. Couldn’t make himself grip his sword, or—

“I’m calm, I’m calm.” Genesis was whispering by the fire, eyes closed, hands over his ears. There was something strange about the way the firelight danced around him, but…

There was the clanging of metal. Sephiroth, who Zack had thought they should be worried about. Angeal, who had been more of a danger in the end. Sword— Training sword, not Buster thank goodness but— 

“I can’t fight him,” Zack whispered, looking to Aerith.

She met his eyes, then looked over to them, looking back and forth between the men. Watching Angeal swing over and over. Watching Sephiroth dodge, and block, and back further and further away from camp. His voice was so low that even Zack couldn’t hear him, but he kept holding his hand out. Trying to communicate.

“He’s hurting him,” She whispered. “Why?”

Zack took a breath. Thought back to those awful days before they figured it out. When he’d grabbed Angeal’s hand away from the stove, already burned. When Angeal had given him that sad look. _‘It’s fine. Better to get the pain over with.’_

“He’s getting the pain over with.” Zack whispered. “Trying to force him to betray us.”

“Right.” Aerith said, squaring her shoulders. “That stops now.”

She hitched up her travelling cape and stomped barefoot out into the cool, dewy grass, towards where Angeal was relentlessly—

“You should stop her.” Genesis whispered, his voice dazed and distant.

Maybe, Zack thought. But—

Aerith neared them. Took a deep breath as Sephiroth took a short hop back towards the fire to get away from Angeal, then she made her move. Flung herself forward, and wrapped her arms around Sephiroth’s middle.

Sephiroth froze, hands up in the air, well out of her way. Angeal froze too, halting his sword mid-swing. 

Zack jogged towards them briskly. Grabbed Angeal’s sword hand. Started working to wrench the blade from it.

“How dare you?” Aerith spat, and Zack froze in surprise, looking over to her in shock.

She was clinging to Sephiroth, protective and fierce and _tiny_ in comparison to him, and the look on her face—!

Zack remembered a painting he’d seen once. At one of those Shinra art openings. It had been titled something like ‘angel of fury.’ Aerith looked _way_ angrier than the painting had.

“I—” Angeal said, blinking quickly, his eyes clearing.

“Good to know,” Zack said, finally getting the sword out of his grip. “If calm isn’t an option, surprise will do in a pinch!”

“Sephiroth!” Cloud’s voice, sprinting closer. “I heard fighting, what—”

“It’s okay.” Sephiroth muttered. Sounding dazed. He looked… Weird, Zack thought. Why did he look weird? For that matter, why was he just… Standing there? Letting Aerith—

“Aerith?” Cloud asked, panting, as he joined them.

“Angeal attacked.” Aerith said. “I figured he wouldn’t hit me.”

“Attacked?” Cloud looked up to Sephiroth.

“I’m not hurt.” Sephiroth murmured, blinking slowly. “You… You may release me now, Aerith.”

“Oh,” Aerith said quickly, “Sorry, I—”

“Wait,” Cloud said, holding out a hand. “Wait. You’re not a Soldier. I’d… I’d forgotten.”

“Thank you?” Aerith hazarded.

“He can— Hug him tighter for me?”

“Cloud…”

“Has anyone touched you since?” Cloud asked, looking up into Sephiroth’s eyes.

Silence was his answer. Zack watched Aerith glance up at Sephrioth’s face then huff out a breath. She loosened her grip, but only to stretch her arms up. Hopping up to wrap her arms around his shoulders till he stooped to permit it.

“You don’t have to.” He told her softly.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” She asked, warm and easy as if this hadn't just been a life-or-death situation.

Zack turned his attention to Angeal, who stood stiff and tense. He took his mentor’s hand in his. Squeezed.

“You’ll need to keep a closer eye on us.” Angeal said softly, his voice hollow. “I’m sorry, Sephiroth. I…”

Sephiroth was shaking his head. He had genuinely curled into the hug. Not just permitted or tolerated it, but ducked his head against her shoulder. Lifted his human hand to her back. The metal one sagged heavy at his side. _Oh_ , Zack thought sorrowfully, watching them there. Looking to Cloud’s miserable eyes. _Oh, we have to figure something out about this._

“I understand the impulse.” Sephiroth muttered. “And the reasoning.”

“No.” Angeal shook his head. “No. Aerith’s right. And Zack and Cloud too. I… You’re my friend. I don’t know why I’m being so—”

“Infinite in mystery is the gift of this bullshit.” Genesis muttered, walking up to join them. “Everyone in one piece, though?”

“Yeah,” Cloud breathed, dragging his eyes of the sight of Sephiroth sighing in relief as Aerith rubbed his back. “All in one piece.”

“Well! Then we still have one up on the future.” Genesis said, not managing to sound as flippant as he was trying to.

“You know, I sort of have the feeling you guys haven’t quiiiiite told me everything.” Aerith commented from where her chin was hooked over Sephiroth’s shoulder. “Like why Sephiroth is touch-starved, or why Angeal just went crazy, or why Genesis keeps spouting random poetry, or why Cloud keeps jumping into trees by accident.”

“Right.” Zack said. “Uh, I’ll… Run you through it all soon. Angeal? No more rampages?”

“No. I’m so sorry, Sephiroth.”

“Already forgiven. I understand the intention.”

“To get the pain over with?” Angeal asked.

“Hm.” Sephiroth patted Aerith’s back lightly, straightening out of her embrace. “Something like that. Thank you, Aerith. I’m quite alright now.”

“Sure.” She said. “Any time! Doesn’t have to be murder attempt. But why—”

“Tomorrow,” Zack promised. “Let’s all just… Go sit down, okay?”

“I should go find my catch,” Cloud said. “I got some rabbits, just.. Dropped ‘em when—”

“I’ll accompany you.” Sephiroth said. “If that’s—”

“Yeah,” Cloud said quickly, reaching out to grab Sephiroth’s metal hand. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Angeal,” Genesis murmured, “Come on.”

He put a hand on his friend’s back. Guiding him away.

“It could be worse,” Genesis added as he led Angeal towards the fire. “At least _you_ didn’t _stab_ him.”

Aerith stood in place a while longer. Then she opened her arms, expectantly. Zack scooped her up at once. Pressed his face to her shoulder, breathing slow.

“You’re amazing,” He whispered to her. “You know that?”

“I know,” she murmured, twining her fingers in his hair as he carried her back towards the fire. Pressing a soft kiss to his eyepatch. “So trust me with more. Alright? I’m in this, Zack. I’m with you. No secrets.”

“No secrets.” Zack agreed. “We’re all working on that. I’ll do better. Promise.”

“Start now?”

“Sure! Um… Cloud does ballet?”

“One of _your_ secrets!” She objected, pinching one of his ears lightly.

“Oh, me?” Zack asked, considering what secrets he could possibly have. “Well… I guess I love you?”

Aerith snorted. Curled a little closer in his arms as they settled back by the fire, where Genesis and Angeal were already speaking in hushed tones. Quiet, calm words.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” She murmured. “That’s no secret at all.”

When Sephiroth and Cloud came back with the hares Cloud had managed to kill, Aerith stood from the fire and brushed her skirt off.

“Right,” She said firmly. “We’re all in this together, and we will be for a while. Show me how to gut them.”

Cloud glanced to Sephiroth, then shrugged and nodded.

“Alright,” He said. “Sucks, though.”

“I can handle it!” She said energetically, making a fist.

Cloud glanced back, but Zack gave him an encouraging nod. He’d keep things civil.

“Are you hurt?” Angeal asked softly, lifting his guilty eyes to Sephiroth.

“No,” Sephiroth said. “Barely a scratch. Worst damage was this.” He tugged his glove off the prosthetic. Showed the gash through the Shinra logo they’d emblazoned on the back of his hand.

“Hah,” Genesis said softly. “Looks good like that.”

“Hey,” Zack said. “Let’s all just… Come to an agreement about a couple of things while we’re here, okay? Number one: Sephiroth is our friend, we like him, and we’re going to our best to help. Yes?”

“Zack—” Sephiroth started.

“I suppose,” Genesis sighed. “Friend is such a dull word for it, though.”

“No, absolutely.” Angeal said softly. “I can’t tell you how ashamed I am…”

“Cool!” Zack said. “And Sephiroth? All I’m gunna ask of you is to try to talk to us more, okay buddy?”

“Buddy?” Sephiroth repeated, his brows furrowing.

“In comparison, I no longer object to ‘friend.’ Genesis said flatly.

“I… I don’t want to overburden you.” Sephiroth said. “Or frighten you. He… It… Speaks to me often, now. I try not to listen, but it is… It has been a lot of late. I find it hard to focus. I keep thinking about… About holding Cloud’s hand, or… I’m not sure if that’s him or me.”

“Sounds reasonable enough to me.” Zack whispered. “You two are really close. And Cloud… He was saying you hadn’t touched someone since your arm, right? That’s a long time. I’d definitely be thinking about holding Cloud’s hand.”

Sephiroth cut him a confused look.

“Or Aerith’s!” Zack added. “Or, you know, Angeal’s. Probably not Genesis’s.”

“Rude.” Genesis commented.

“Point is… We can help.” Zack said softly. “If not us, at least Cloud. To pick apart what’s real and what’s not. It’s not just that you don’t have to do this alone, Sephiroth. I’s that none of us can. No one can do it all alone.”

“I…” Sephiroth hesitated. Seemed to consider. Looked over to where Cloud had just exclaimed in horror to see Aerith flicking its of viscera in his direction, much to the blond’s horror.

“We are all here,” He said slowly. “But I feel very alone. I know it is my fault, so—”

“Which part is your fault?” Genesis asked from where he was lounging by the fire, managing to make it look comfortable. “Angeal and I being out of our heads? That was Hollander.”

“But Cloud—”

“We already figured this out, remember?” Zack said. “If you hadn’t gone looking for him, Cloud would have died.”

“I believe that was only because of the position the Other put him in. Him and—”

“Wait.” Angeal said, lifting a hand to him. “The Other, or you?”

“The Other.”

“So it’s not your fault.” Angeal said with a shrug. “I don’t know that any of it is. None of us are exactly perfect—”

“Speak for yourself, once I’m cured I’m back to being a shining example of humanity.” Genesis said dryly.

“But,” Angeal continued, cutting his friend a look, “we’re all in this. And it isn’t your fault. We… _I_ should be thanking you. Not making it harder.”

“Thanking me? For what?”

Zack smiled at Angeal. Nodded to him.

“Sephiroth,” He said softly, looking up to him. “Even with all the pain it put you through, even though it cost you tat chance of happiness, you’re trying to save our lives. I think you deserve some thanks for that.”

Sephiroth stood in the falling dark, looking at Zack for a long time. Then he slowly, slowly stepped forward into the circle. Slid to a seat with them.

“You all did it first,” He murmured. “Breaking into an Avalanche base just to rescue me.”

“Not that you needed it.” Genesis teased.

“You and your poor little broken nose.” Zack laughed.

“I swear, if one more person had mentioned my damn nose.” Sephiroth chuckled, tossing a stick into the fire.

The laughing felt good. It felt like blisters, starting to heal into something stronger.


	20. Found Famiily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change happens a little at a time.
> 
> Change happens all at once.
> 
> Change happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Body Horror" and "Self-harm" tags have been added thanks to some of the events in this chapter. Proceed with caution!

“Aim higher for this one,” Genesis advised, lifting Aerith’s hand a touch.

Aerith was panting, sweating, but her eyes were alight. She nodded, holding position after Genesis released her arm.

“Good.” Genesis said. “Now fire.”

Lightning sliced through the air. The piecemeal training dummy that Zack had painted a scowling mud face on exploded. Zack whooped in delight. Cloud elbowed him in annoyance at the sound.

“Oh, you have the _touch_ for it!” Genesis praised.

“Hah…” Aerith was beaming, panting, staring at the completely obliterated bundles of sticks and rocks. “Let’s go again!”

“Hot.” Zack called over to her.

“Down, puppy.” Angeal chuckled.

Sephiroth watched them.

——————

“Elbows in, Spike!” Zack called over the ringing crash of their swords.

“I’ll put my elbows in you!” Cloud replied, launching off a tree after being tossed lightly aside.

“He’s nearly as strong as us these days.” Genesis commented, only glancing up from his book occasionally to watch Cloud and Zack spar.

“Which one?” Angeal asked with a chuckle, hands on his hips.

Sephiroth stood between them, and tried to focus on how he felt.

Aerith had suggested the night before that that he focus more on how he was feeling. She had been leaning against him heavily by the campfire. She’d taken to initiating touches whenever it seemed to strike her. She called it ‘being Cloud’s stunt double.’

_“Focus more on you,” she had said. “On what you’re feeling. On what you want. Try to recognize it when things are okay. At least, that’s what I do. When the world is too loud.”_

How _he_ was feeling. Because the Other was burning inside him. He wanted to fight Cloud. Badly. But Sephiroth… Sephiroth was standing between Genesis and Angeal, watching Cloud and Zack fight, and he was okay.

“Are you suggesting the puppy for a promotion?” He asked, glancing over at Angeal.

“Hah,” Genesis split into a grin. “Vagabond, First Class?”

“He can move up from second most wanted to first, with the rest of us.” Angeal chuckled.

“One day you’ll get on my level.” Aerith said, rocking on her heels as she watched Cloud dodge one of Zack’s strikes neatly enough that he was able to score a slap on the Soldier’s ass. Which was, incomprehensibly, how they had decided they were going to score points.

“And what level is that?” Genesis asked, closing his book to look over at her, indulgent as he had been since he discovered her proficiency with materia.

Aerith gave him a positively impish smile, winked, and brought a finger up to her lips.

“Top secret.” She whispered.

“Ow, Zack!” Cloud yelled, rubbing his ass. “Not with the sword!”

“I used the flat part!” Zack replied, laughing.

Sephiroth felt…

Better.

——————

“Who’s got a spooky campfire story?” Zack asked the night before they left their week-long camping spot. They’d stayed hoping to get _behind_ Shinra. Let them sweep through towns hoping to catch up to them while they spent long days fishing and doing nothing much at all.

“I think some of us have had enough ‘spooky’ for a lifetime, puppy.”

“What? No. Come on!”

“I can.” Aerith volunteered, uncharacteristically serious. “I’ve met lots of ghosts.”

“Okay, no, yeah, maybe just a fun story!” Zack said, speaking high and fast with immediate fear.

Cloud snorted his fish stew and spent the next fifteen minutes coughing through his laughter.

Sephiroth’s arm started to hurt. He ignored it. He was warm by the fire. Angeal’s stew was delicious, made with fish they’d caught together. His friends were laughing.

——————

That night Sephiroth was pinned to the ground with his own sword. Straight through the scar Genesis had left in him. The Other’s hands had moved over him. His silver hair had spilled over his shoulders where he knelt at Sephiroth’s side, cold against his pinned body. Gloved hands had ghosted over Sephiroth’s chest, then down his left arm.

Reality and dream had mingled as the Other pressed his hand against the stump of Sephiroth’s arm. Melted into him.

Sephiroth woke up well before the sun. His left arm was screaming, burning agony. He rolled quietly off of the sleeping bag he’d bedded down on. Walked to the river with steady, even paces.

His right hand fumbled at the latches on the arm that connected it to the metal anchor they’d welded to his bone. It fell away with a dull clatter, the mako that powered it flickering.

Something unfurled. Something that had been pinned under the metal of his prosthetic.

Flesh, yes.

But not an arm.

Sephiroth summoned Masamune. The only blade he had on him. Ran the twitching, spasming flesh over it, over and over, whittling it away a sliver at a time. Till he uncovered the join of metal and flesh through the gore of his body’s attempt to heal itself.

He stuck it in the river till most of the blood was gone, then reattached the prosthetic and walked back to camp. He didn’t go back to sleep. He didn’t wake anyone. He sat with his mouth closed, and tried not to throw up.

He was afraid of what would come out of his throat.

——————

Aerith sang while they walked in the morning, apparently annoyed by their consistent refusal to share any so-called ‘marching songs’ with her.

Her voice was sweet and clear, even if the songs were mostly wordless tunes, often interrupted by Zack adding in drum effects and both of them bursting into laughter. Half the time Angeal was humming along, somewhat tonelessly. But his voice was deep and rich and familiar.

Cloud walked beside Sephiroth, groaning frequently at the others shenanigans, commiserating with Genesis on one of the few subjects they had found they agreed on—that Aerith had terrible taste in music, and questionable taste in boyfriends. This last consistently made Zack turn all the way around to give them his full-force puppy eye while walking backwards.

Sephiroth wanted to enjoy her singing. But something about the sound of her voice bounced off the inside of his head wrong. Like it was ringing too clear. It didn’t feel like him, really, so he took a moment to inspect how he felt.

Sore in his left arm. Tired, overall. The singing made his head hurt, but everyone was happy. They were happy, and they were with him. So he didn’t mind the soreness so much. Cloud gently twined his fingers together with Sephiroth’s mechanical ones. Sephiroth couldn’t feel it, but he knew that meant Cloud _wanted_ to be holding his hand.

So he pushed aside the discomfort, and smiled quietly through the songs.

—————-

They made it to the chocobo farm before anything else went wrong. Arranged for lodging, even if only in the barn. Zack had made some comment about hay lofts that had resulted in Aerith ignoring him and only talking to Angeal for the rest of the evening.

Sephiroth spent most of the time with the birds. He liked them. They weren’t demanding of anything but gentle touches, and he was certain his hand wouldn’t burn them. They pecked at his prosthetic through the tear Angeal’s sword had left in his glove. Perhaps they thought the gleaming metal below the fabric was some secret treat.

Cloud came out to join him. He didn’t speak much. Stroked the birds with warm motions, and fended them off from pecking at his earring with soft, good-natured chuckles. The birds were gentle, despite your size. One of them cocked its head at Cloud and warked curiously.

Cloud warked back, good-natured, and it set off a chocobo dance, the birds hopping and fluttering and singing to one another. Cloud was laughing. His eyes turned to Sephiroth. Shared that moment of laughter with him.

Sephiroth hid his own laugh behind a fall of his unruly, growing hair.

—————-

That night Genesis couldn’t stop shivering. It didn’t matter how many layers he wore, or how close to the fire he was. Sephiroth knelt beside him, keeping watch while Zack and Cloud went to ask Choco Bill for a couple extra blankets for the night.

“Talk to me.” Sephiroth encouraged softly, while Angeal pressed against Genesis’s side and Aerith tried once more to cast an esuna over him.

“You’ll think it’s stupid.” Genesis whispered, pale and exhausted. “I know you think I’m stupid.”

“I don’t.” Sephiroth shook his head. “I never have.”

“It’s okay.” Angeal said quietly. “Sephiroth and I both know something about strange thoughts, Genesis.”

“I just…” Genesis shivered again. Lifted a hand to his face, wiping it over his eyes before scratching at his cheek.

“I thought I knew what story this was.” He whispered, his eyes haunted as he looked into the fire. “I thought I knew what story we were telling.”

“Loveless?” Angeal asked, leaning heavier against Genesis’s side.

“Yes.” Genesis whispered. “I always thought it was more than a story. Ever since I was a boy, I… But in Loveless, the three friends go into battle. One is captured, one flies away, and the one that is left…”

He took a breath. His brows twisted. It hurt. The look on his face hurt to look at.

“But this isn’t Loveless.” He whispered. “There aren’t three of us anymore. And if it was us… Would any of us be fit to be a hero? I thought that role was meant for me, but…”

His back hunched. 

“There are other stories,” Sephiroth whispered. “Perhaps we aren’t in a tragedy.”

Genesis’s smile twisted.

“You still don’t understand,” He laughed softly. “Loveless isn’t a tragedy. It’s a love letter. To this world. To the goddess. To all the things I used to…”

“Used to?” Angeal whispered. “Gen. Come on.”

But Genesis shook his head. Took a shaking breath. When he let it out, he lowered his head. Like a surrender.

From his back sprouted a vast, black wing. Too many joints, too big for belief.

Angeal sat silent and worried, looking up at the wing and the shadow it cast against the wall. Aerith lifted a hand to her mouth, but made not a sound. Sephiroth felt an ache start deep inside him. Something stirring just under his heart. It hurt. It hurt…

He reached out with his false hand. His safe hand. Drew Genesis’s hand away from his cheek.

The skin there had cracked like ceramic.

“Stay with me,” Sephiroth whispered before he fully understood the impulse. Before he fully understood the request. “Stay with us.”

Genesis said nothing, staring into the fire, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. Angeal wrapped his arm firmly around Genesis’s shoulders, and held on tight.

Cloud froze in the doorway as he returned. Zack jogged forward away from him, whispering questions to Aerith. Putting his hand on Genesis’s shoulder. Staring up at the quivering wing, tense and unfurled as if Genesis was fighting the urge to fly. 

Sephiroth looked back to Cloud. Saw the fear in his face. Felt it echo deep inside him, in the hollow, echoing pit of silent terror that had slowly been carving itself out of his stomach. When Cloud’s eyes met his, they were wide and teary. Terrified. Sephiroth wanted to hold him. Wanted to promise it would be alright. 

He could do neither.

—————-

In the morning, the wing was still there, and the crack in his cheek was still there, but Genesis was himself again. He chuckled about it, though none of the others wanted to laugh.

“Guess we’ve got a wing waiting list now.” Genesis joked, looking over his shoulder as he flared and curled the new appendage experimentally.

Sephiroth glanced down at his left arm. He’d woken up early to that painful feeling again. Had slipped away, as far as he dared, and cut the writhing thing off his arm into the swamp. Food for the zoloms.

Perhaps if a wing appeared, he could do the same.

—————

They rode out on chocobos, some of Angeal’s carefully saved and budgeted gil spent on the rental to get them safely across the Midgar Zolom’s territory. Aerith was uneasy on hers, higher off the ground than she was comfortable with. Or maybe she was faking it. Either way, she insisted that her ‘mentor’ ride beside her to make sure she didn’t fall off.

_‘Your mentor?’ Zack had asked, laughing. ‘You have one?’_

_‘Obviously! You have Angeal, and I got Genesis.’_

_‘Oh, lucky you.’ Genesis had replied, in apparent good humor, and had steered his chocobo over to stay beside hers._

All that day, as they traveled, Angeal’s chocobo kept lagging. Zack eventually reined his own feisty mount back to ride beside him. Sephiroth kept an ear on them, even as he rode quietly at Cloud’s side.

“You okay?” Cloud asked softly.

“A little uneasy.” Sephiroth admitted after a moment. “The only man I know with a wing has not been kind.”

Cloud hummed. Stroked his chocobo’s feathered neck.

“Still just Genesis.” He said quietly. “Loves a dumb old poem, thinks a bad blended wine with his name on it was the greatest injustice Shinra ever inflicted on him. Even though he’s literally dying because of their science experiments.”

“It was a bad blend, in his defense.” Sephiroth mentioned with a half-smile in Cloud’s direction.

“I wouldn’t know good wine if it punched me.” Cloud replied, completely blank-faced.

“No.” Zack said from behind them, so fiercely and sharply that it halted all other conversation. Sent everyone turning towards him and Angeal

“It’s just true, Zack.” Angeal said, his voice carrying now that he wasn’t whispering, his eyes fixed on the ground, his expression tense and angry. “Humans don’t have wings.”

“Clearly some humans do!” Zack replied. “Angeal, you’re getting—”

Angeal shook his head. Lowered his head. Gripped his reins too tightly.

“You should never have gotten this close” 

Sephiroth turned his chocobo back towards them. Urged her forward, feeling the shift in the air. Zack swung off his bird, expression intense. Sephiroth could see his hands shaking even from where he was.

“Soldier is nothing but—”

Zack pounced just as the wings flared. White, broad, strong, and an explosion of feathers as Zack tackled Angeal out of his saddle. They rolled to the ground together.

“Don’t you dare.” Zack was whispering as Sephiroth swung out of his saddle. As Cloud jogged towards, already off his bird and moving. As Aerith and Genesis turned back to join them. 

“I’m a monster.” Angeal whispered, raggedly, bedraggled, and wet, and muddy from his tumble in the swamp with Zack.

“Wings don’t make you a monster.” Zack whispered, his face pressed to Angeal’s shoulder.

A dark shadow passed over Sephiroth, where he’d slowed to a walk. Genesis landed delicately beside them. Crouched in the muck with only the barest nose wrinkle.

“What happened to mister even keel, huh?” He asked softly. “Come on, Angeal. They’re just feathers.”

“But,” Angeal glanced over to Sephiroth, though it was clear from the immediate guilt on his face that he hadn’t meant to.

“The wing isn’t what makes the Other evil.” Cloud said grimly, striding forward, his movements steady and tense. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

_Oh_ , Sephiroth thought, blinking. _Evil_ …

“Just breathe,” Zack muttered, face pressed into Angeal’s chest. “No one here is going to hurt you. No matter what you try. There’s nothing wrong with you, Angeal.”

“Well,” Genesis smiled down at his friend, reaching out to poke him in the forehead. “One thing. But that isn’t your fault. Easy to tell, because I’m perfect, and it’s a problem for me too.”

“I can’t.” Angeal whispered. “I can’t exist like this.”

“You can and you will.” Cloud said, his voice sharp and commanding. He stood above their huddle, and Sephiroth found himself transfixed by him. The way he had been all those long months ago. When Cloud had pushed in front of him and broken a man’s arm to protect him.

“If you aren’t strong enough, then be stronger than you are.” Cloud ordered, standing tall, eyes blazing. “There’s no other option than to keep going.”

Sephiroth turned away from them in a world that suddenly felt slow. His body always responded faster than his mind to threat. He blinked at the giant shape of the Zolom, exploding out of the water behind Aerith. No matter, he told himself, even as his legs dug into the swamp and he launched himself forward. Even as Masamune leapt to life in his right hand instead of his left.

No matter. You would have been evil once. Now you are not.

He jammed his sword through the Zolom’s skull, distantly hearing the echoing screams of Aerith, and the others, and the chocobos.

He registered them, but distantly. All he could hear in his mind was Cloud. Sure and strong.

“Be stronger than you are.”

The Zolom thrashed. Fought. Sephiroth slashed it to pieces, with methodical precision. Dropped with the still-twitching corpse into the swamp. Turned to see them, all untouched, staring. That was alright, he told himself, straightening, swinging his blade hard to send the blood spattering off it.

“I—” Aerith whispered, her face pale from the shock.

“What did we spend all that money on the chocobos for?” Angeal objected, sitting up with Zack still clinging to his shoulders.

“I thought that arm was giving you trouble.” Genesis added, shifting his weight to one hip and crossing his arms.

“It is.” Sephiroth said dully. “I’m filthy. Normally I would be able to deal with a Zolom without getting blood all over me.”

“And the chocobos?” Angeal demanded.

“Cloud liked them.” Sephiroth replied, striding back to his bird. “Shall we go, if you’re currently done with your crisis?”

“ _You’re_ a crisis.” Angeal muttered. But he stood up, still with a Zack attached to him. Chuckled softly. Gave in to a brief hug with his protege. “I’m good.” He murmured. “Even keel.”

“Thanks,” Aerith whispered. “I thought—”

“They wouldn’t have let it hurt you.” Sephiroth said quickly, letting his bird hesitantly smell him, understandably anxious about the smell of blood.

“No,” She said, shaking her head. “I thought it would hurt them. I’m not strong enough to keep them safe yet.”

Sephiroth cast her an approving smile.

“You will be,” He said, swinging back up onto his bird.

“Because I like them, huh?” Asked Cloud on his left side.

Sephiroth slid his gaze down towards him. That stubborn, strong blond. Leaning against his chocobo and staring evenly up at Sephiroth, one eyebrow lifted.

“Wark.” Sephiroth said, and Cloud split into a grin.

Angeal’s wings didn’t fade. But he rode with the group again.

\---------

They were able to find flowing water in the Mythril mines, and settled in to spend the night there. Took turns in the delicate flow of water down the dark rock to rinse off the worst of the mud. Angeal had hesitated before spreading his wings stiffly, letting the light waterfall rinse the mud off their splendid white feathers.

“Hm.” Genesis had muttered, glancing at his own black wing then looking to Sephiroth.

He’d opened his mouth to ask something, so Sephiroth headed it off at the pass.

“The Other’s is black.”

————-

“It’s so dark in here,” Aerith whispered, huddled close to their small camping light— not a fire. Not in a mine. No better way to suffocate.

“Thought you hated the sky?” Zack said, leaning against her, his face hidden against her shoulder sleepily.

“Hm…” Aerith fiddled with the white flower she’d plucked out from behind Zack’s eyepatch. “I thought I did too…”

————-

Sephiroth woke in pain, and slipped away from the others. Down twisting corridors and tunnels. To a dead-end drop off. Sat on the edge. Carefully removed his arm. Poured the blood out from inside the hollow cavity his stump slotted into. Set it beside him. Stared down at the thing that was not an arm. Thick, and inhuman. Purple-green. No hand, only…

He summoned his sword. Started the grim work.

He’d gotten better at it.

“Sephiroth?”

He froze. Looked up slowly from his blade. Met two pairs of bright eyes.

He completed his cut quickly before they could stop him.

“That would explain why you’re getting thinner even though you’re eating.” Genesis said with a click of his tongue.

“Sephiroth,” Angeal repeated, concern, and disappointment and—

“It’s not my arm.” Sephiroth said, letting his bleeding arm hang limply at his side. “It isn’t my arm.”

Genesis and Angeal exchanged a look. Then slowly they walked over to join him at the edge of the drop off. Genesis lifted Sephiroth's discarded mechanical arm carefully. Looked inside at the dried blood.

“Okay.” Angeal said softly. “It’s not your arm.”

“I can’t let him get more of a hold than he already has.” Sephiroth whispered, trying to make them understand. Trying to make them see. “He’ll ruin me.”

“Hey.” Angeal said, looking out into the empty space below them. “We get it.”

“If anyone does.” Genesis said, pulling one of his handkerchiefs out to work on cleaning the interior of Sephiroth’s prosthetic.

Sephiroth looked at their wings. At Angeal’s twin pair, folding and refolding at his back, uncomfortable. At the great sweep of Genesis’s, splayed out on the rocky path behind him to keep it out of his way as he sat.

“It’s not my arm.” He whispered, but he felt so tired. He just couldn’t say anything else. Couldn’t explain. Couldn’t quite fit the thought in his own mind.

“Of course not.” Genesis said, offering him his prosthetic back. “This is.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.” Angeal said softly. “That’s all.”

Sephiroth re-hooked his arm quietly. But his hand was shaking, and the metal slipped, tumbled off the drop off and—

And Angeal’s wings flared out as he swooped to catch it. Returned it to him with an even beat of wings before settling back in his place at his side. Sephiroth barely whispered his thanks, strapping it back on with a soft hiss of mako.

Silence for a moment after. The three of them sat in the tunnel, looking at the glowing walls of the great chasm before them. Sephiroth thought he heard something inside himself calling for him to fall. Worried that Angeal would hear it too. Reached out to hold Angeal's wrist with his prosthetic arm. Perhaps he could at least slow the fall.

“South in the morning.” Genesis murmured, gazing up at the ceiling. “Back towards Banora. Think they’ll be waiting for us?”

“Probably.” Angeal chuckled. “But Hollander said he needed to talk to mom. So I need to talk to her too.”

“I’ll take you there.” Sephiroth promised softly. “But then… Then I have to find out what I am. I have to understand why.”

“Well,” Genesis sighed, stretching his arms and wing alike. “Hopefully when you have answers, we’ll be in fighting shape to go kill whatever it is that needs killing.”

“Together.” Angeal said softly. “All of us.”

Sephiroth swallowed. Took a moment to examine how he felt. Zack’s smiles, and Aerith’s laugh, and Angeal’s wrist under the hand he couldn’t feel, and Genesis idly tracing patterns in the glowing ceiling as if they were stars.

And Cloud…

And Cloud in everything.

And…

“Alright,” He whispered, not fully understanding the way his voice broke, or the warmth in that hollow place under his heart where fear usually lived.

He was certain it wasn’t fear, but he wasn’t sure he had a name for it at all.


	21. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last trek to Banora takes some time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something different in this chapter as we approach one more shift... I hope you all enjoy!

_Aerith:_

“Oh,” She breathed, staring out at the field that stretched below her. “Oh, _wow_.”

“That’s quite a sight.” Genesis agreed, pushing his bangs out of his face, the new grey streak in his red hair an unsettling highlight. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere, exhausted, and filthy, but that is quite a sight.”

Aerith elbowed him, refusing to let his dour attitude spoil her fun. This was the best thing she’d ever seen. Standing atop the small bluff, looking over the field before her. The flowers, and flowers, and flowers.

“Whatcha got?” Zack called up from behind them, from where he was walking with Angeal.

“Want to go down in style?” Genesis asked in a whisper.

Aerith felt her grin grow. Lifted her arms in answer. Genesis’s hands gripped her waist, Beat his wing hard, just once, and they were flying down the steep cliff face together. Sweeping over the flowers in slow spirals.

“No fair!” Zack’s voice followed, full of laughter, even as Aerith shrieked in a combination of delight and terror, clinging to Genesis’s coat.

“He’s right, you know.” Genesis chuckled, his voice clear over the wind of flight. “There is no fair. I’d have to carry him along for that.”

“Why are all of you like this with puns?” She laughed, then shrieked as he twisted mid-air, a lazy corkscrew before landing lightly amid the flowers.

_‘Careful,’_ the flowers whispered, all around her. The world she loved. That loved her. That spoke in her own voice. _‘Careful. Careful.’_

“It’s alright,” She told them, sinking slowly to her knees, stroking the soft petals while Genesis’s feathers fell around her. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“Many would beg to differ.” Genesis sighed, his wing flaring, the shadow darkening the vibrant colors before he folded it neatly at his back again.

Aerith glanced back up at him over her shoulder. Beckoned him down.

“Are they speaking today, then?” Genesis asked, sinking to sit heavily beside her.

His condition vexed her. Confused her. His and Angeal’s both. One moment they could be fighting like an oil machine. Flying and carrying her like she was nothing, as he just had. Then the next they were stiff. Weary. Their skin cracked, their eyes dulled, their hair greying. Even Genesis’s wing was dulling.

“Yes,” Aerith murmured. “Do you hear them?”

“I doubt these days that the goddess would care to speak to me.” Genesis reached out despite his words. Lightly touched a small blue flower, its stem and leaves velvety soft.

“I don’t think it’s a goddess I’m hearing,” Aerith said, shaking her head. “A goddess wouldn’t be afraid.”

“What are they afraid of?” Genesis asked.

Aerith looked up to the bluff. To Zack playfully asking Angeal for a flight down, overenthusiastically pantomiming flight. Even looking at him made the world warmer. Made the flowers whisper wordless approval. To Angeal, staring at Zack with ill-concealed amusement. To Cloud, picking his way neatly down the cliff like a natural-born mountain goat. 

She forced her eyes to the last of their companions. Sephiroth stood still and quiet at the top of the cliff. The wind tugged at his silver hair. Aerith heard the wind whispering. _Fall. Fall._ Not in her voice, that one. But still a voice. Surely a goddess wouldn’t say something so foolish.

His eyes turned towards her, and she steeled herself not to shy away. She hated it. His gaze. Like he was looking at her from outside. Outside this world she loved. As if the planet was in a glass ball, and he was peering in from the sky.

But he’d been nothing but kind. Nothing but sad. She could never forget it. _Would_ never forget it. The way he’d gone stiff under her arms when she latched on to protect him. The way she’d felt him lean in. Like he wanted to put all his weight on her.

Like he wanted to be protected.

Was it his fault, if he was behind the glass? Outside the world? He looked in, and he wanted, and she could see him just outside. Hungry and strange.

_We let his kind in before,_ the flowers warned. Not her voice, but strong and wise. _She looked like one of us._

But look at him, she wanted to say, as Cloud slipped an inch and Sephiroth leapt from his place on top of the cliff. Slid halfway down in a perfect, beautiful motion, his human hand clawed into the wall for grip so that he could extend the metal one to Cloud. Steady him. Though Cloud was already steady again, and waved him away. Said something with that wry annoyed look of his that left ducking his head to hide a smile.

“Aerith?” Genesis asked.

“Oh,” Aerith looked to him. “Sorry. The flowers? I suppose they fear what most flowers do. A year without rain, hard ground,”

Zack jumped from halfway down the cliff, landing hard and turning it into a tumbling roll, laughing all the way. 

“Careless humans.” Aerith added dryly.

“I don’t know what you see in him.” Genesis told her.

Aerith snorted. Shook her head.

“Yes you do.” She said, as Zack picked himself up, turned around, and stretched his arms out to Cloud with an offer to catch him if he slipped again.

Cloud, never one to turn down a challenge, jumped down into Zack's waiting arms, and sent them both tumbling into the flowers once more.

_Genesis:_

The degradation ate away at him in pieces and chunks. He healed after, yes. He was strong enough to heal still. It was just while it was chewing that it was a danger.

He trained himself as best he could. To warn them. To give what signs he could as he felt the teeth sink in.

Loveless, always a comfort to him, had become a curse. The words he’d loved turned to daggers against his friends.

“It would be stupid if you didn’t mean it.” Cloud had told him one night, sitting beside him while he came down from another episode, a new streak of grey in his hair, and a new bout of silence from Sephiroth in the wake of his words. “It only means anything because it’s you. If it wasn’t, I’d just laugh. It sounds ridiculous.”

“Loveless isn’t ridiculous.” Genesis had muttered, eyes on his hands. On the way the skin on the palm of his hand cracked.

“Whatever you say.” Cloud had replied.

Sephiroth was his most frequent victim. The silent, stoic, beautiful demon of Wutai. His rival. His hero.

‘You’ll share a dumbapple with me, won’t you?’ Genesis had asked him once, when he could feel his body decaying around him. When his mind was crumbling, and furious, and sorry, and wounded, and angry and... ‘Before I die, you’ll share a dumbapple with me.’

‘You’re not going to die.’

'Coward.' Genesis had spat at him in reply. Lashed out to hurt him. But Sephiroth had moved away. As he did from every touch. So Genesis had lunged for the metal arm. Caught it fast in his grip. His hands could still hold. Could still hurt.

‘How long do you think before all of you is like what’s beneath this?’ He had hissed.

Genesis closed his eyes against the memory of Sephiroth’s face. The look of agony and betrayal. Two nights ago now, and Sephiroth hadn’t spoken. Angeal had accompanied Sephiroth to his morning ritual, and Genesis had kept his distance. He didn’t want to give himself more ammunition. And in honesty, he didn’t want to see it again. That writhing thing. Sephiroth’s face as he cut it off once more.

But instead he just thought about Sephiroth’s face when he’d said it. The way his eyes had widened in fear. The way it had dissolved into hurt. The way the metal arm had twitched under his tight grip.

Do something, he told himself, burying his face in his hands. Do something, do something, you’re supposed to be his friend.

But he wasn’t _good_ at it. Not really. Not at the parts that Angeal fit into so naturally. The caretaking. The gentility. The steady presence.

Genesis was the fun. The party. The foolishness. Except now, he was the burden. The sickness. The dagger in the back.

Everything he could have offered once was gone now. No status, no class, no fanclub, not even his beauty.

He thought about it all day. Okay, maybe _obsessed over it_ would have been more accurate. But he had to do something. He had to. He was so much trouble, so much weight, so…

Sephiroth tossed his head as his hair slipped over his shoulder and into his face as he crouched. Yet again.

Ah, thought Genesis. Finally.

That evening he brought it up.

“Your hair’s gotten longer. Would you like a trim?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth whispered, glancing up quietly at him from over his grilled mushroom skewer. “Please.”

Genesis tried to play off the pleasure he felt at the immediate approval.

“Careful not to touch,” Sephiroth warned as Genesis gathered his hair afterwards.

“You know,” Genesis said, “you’ve been very, very careful about that.”

He dragged the brush from scalp to the ends of Sephiroth’s hair without hitting a single snag. He almost commented on how unnatural it was. He thought better of it before the words escaped him.

“Of course.” Sephiroth said, his voice quiet. “I don’t want any of you hurt.”

“I know you don’t.” Genesis started at his scalp on the other side. “But you’ve hurt… One person, one time? Before you knew it was a possibility, even. Do you think you’re being too cautious?”

“I could have killed him.” Sephrioth murmured, his voice distant and a little dazed.

Genesis hesitated. There was no reason to keep brushing. His hair was smooth and straight. He ran the brush through his hair again, slow and smooth. Watched Sephiroth tilt into the touch.

“You didn’t.” Genesis murmured. “You don’t have to decide right now, and you don’t have to make the choice I think is right. But consider that you know a great deal more about your enemy than you used to. And that neither you nor Cloud are weak.”

“Mm.”

Genesis hesitated. Set the comb aside.

“And I’m fairly sure that Angeal and I don’t have any S-cells. So may I?”

Sephiroth’s eyes slid over to him. Held there a long time, tired and wanting. Then he nodded, very slowly.

Genesis combed his fingers through Sephiroth’s hair. Gathered it in neat bundles. Stared working. A slow rhythm. Gather, trim, gather, trim. Sephiroth’s head followed his hands. Chased the touch instinctively. Wearily. Genesis scolded him only gently. Steadied him with more touch. Gentle, he reminded himself. Gentle.

By the time he was done, Sephiroth’s hair was trimmed short and neat once more, a little wilder than Sephiroth himself ever would have chosen, but it looked good on him.

Sephiroth himself was almost completely asleep, lost in the feeling of being tended to. 

_Zack_ :

“Babe, Aerith, no.” He said, hand over his scar, watching her consider her cloak.

“Well you can’t wear this one anymore,” She teased, lifting his acid-splattered eyepatch. A gift from a monster who’d gotten the drop on his blind side.

“At least use my cloak!” He argued. “It’s my fault it got messed up anyhow.”

“Hmm.” Aerith hummed, tugging her cloak off. “Let me think. How about ‘no?’ I’m going to use mine.”

“You don’t have to, though!” Zack objected.

“Why are you covering your scar?” Aerith asked, laying her cloak out on the grassy ground, still considering the eyepatch.

“I dunno.” Zack said. “It’s… I mean, I know it’s a mess. And it upsets Cloud.”

“Does it?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“And Angeal. And probably you?”

“Uh-uh. No using me as a scapegoat. I saw your scar before I saw that pretty eye you’ve still got. Remember? It doesn’t bother me, Zack.”

“I just don’t want to—”

“Bother anyone?” Aerith asked, her too-knowing eyes turning to him. “You deserve better than to not be a bother, Zack. Besides, you know they’ll worry about why you dragged me away instead of talking to them.”

“I don’t… Want them to see.” Zack said slowly. “I’m supposed to be… I need to be strong for them. For Angeal and Cloud especially. Angeal needs to know he did right by me, and Cloud’s had so much instability recently and—”

“And none of that has anything to do with a scar.” Aerith said, watching him steadily. “You’re allowed to be a person, Zack. You don’t have to just be a hero.”

That stung. He swallowed. Looked down at the sprig of flowers she’d brought him to replace the lily he’d worn behind his ear since she met him. Eaten away by acid even though time hadn’t been able to touch it.

“It’s gross.” He admitted softly. “Shinra… All anyone could talk about was how to get rid of it, or cover it, or…”

“Good thing you’re not at Shinra, then.” Aerith murmured, moving over to him. Cupping his cheek gently in her hand. Her other hand steered his hand away from his scar, then cupped his other cheek as well. She smiled. An aching smile. Her thumbs traced his cheekbones, and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I could make a much better new eyepatch with some help.” She whispered. “And I know from watching you try to build a wagon that crafts are _not_ your thing.”

Zack swallowed. Closed his good eye as she gently traced the bottom of the scarred mess of his eye socket. As she stood on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the scar there.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

No one even mentioned it. Genesis pulled out his dagger— the same one he’d trimmed Sephiroth’s hair with— and sliced the old eyepatch at the join in the back so they could take a proper measurement against Aerith’s cape.

Angeal ruffled his hair after checking him for any further injury from the acid. “Fit as a fiddle.” He’d said, leaving his hand in Zack’s hair longer than he’d had to.

“Dude,” Cloud huffed, pressing up to his side. “Don’t cry. You’ll look rad with a brown one too.”

Sephiroth did the sewing. His right hand wasn’t as good as his left had been, he said, but he didn’t need a thimble. He’d wiggled his metal fingers when he said it, and Zack had laughed despite himself. Wet and dumb.

Aerith settled the new eyepatch on his face and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“Once we settle down,” she murmured, “I’ll embroider some flowers on it for you. Just as soon as I learn how to embroider.”

“Thank you.” Zack had whispered, dropping his forehead lightly against hers. “All of you.”

“Idiot.” Cloud had muttered, leaning heavily against his side while he was trying to have a moment.

“Ah, puppy love.” Genesis had sighed, sounding terribly put-upon.

“Be proud.” Angeal said, patting his back. “You gained that scar saving a friend.”

“For which we are all grateful.” Sephiroth added, his voice low.

“Wh— No, make this about Zack again.” Cloud whined, but was too late. Zack had snuck out an arm and grabbed him in a hug, laughing and teary as Cloud wiggled and whined about escape without actually trying to get away.

_Angeal:_

He’d known the way. It hurt him to lead them astray. Guilt was a constant ache these days. Like the part of his shoulder that was crumbling to dust, and the pain in the back of his head, and that part of him that was begging for silence. For peace.

He tried to tell himself they had all needed time. Sephiroth had needed time to come to terms with himself. With the _thing_ that grew where his arm should have been. Not every night, but too often. He woke Angeal now. To come with him. To guard his back. To light the writhing tentacle on fire while Sephiroth shook and pushed his prosthetic back into place.

Zack had clearly still not come to terms with his own injury. Aerith was still finding such joy and terror around every corner of the world. Genesis battled himself more than he’d ever fought any enemy. And poor Cloud, he was lost in ways Angeal couldn’t begin to address.

But if he was totally honest with himself, he’d led them the long way towards Banora because he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to see her. The mother he’d loved. The woman who’d been complicit, at least, in making him whatever it was he was. Not human.

He wasn’t the only one having issues.

‘Oh, yes. Mother and father. Wouldn’t it be nice to see them bleed?’ Genesis had chuckled just a few nights ago.

‘Ooookay, maybe we _won’t_ go to your house.’ Zack had laughed awkwardly.

But it would be nice, Angeal thought. It would be nice to know they suffered. Because he was suffering. Genesis was suffering. And in their pain, they pained the others.

‘You can leave me here,’ he’d told Zack more than once, when his legs were tired, when his mind was tired, when the pain was too much.

‘I’ll carry you if you can’t walk,’ Zack had said, his smile sadder every time.

And in the end, Angeal couldn’t bring himself to disappoint the boy.

Nothing really prepared it for him, though. For his beloved dumbapples. For his hometown, still so much the same. For himself, so changed.

Genesis flew up to a tree. Crowed in triumph as he found a Banora White, ripe and fresh. He’d cut it into pieces and passed them around the group, saving the last for himself.

Angeal didn’t even taste it. He was walking towards home.

Gillian cried when she saw him. She cried, but she didn’t seem surprised. She looked up from the table, and nodded slowly. Nodded, and covered her mouth, in sorrow.

Genesis almost killed her. Fortunately Sephiroth was still faster. But his poor metal arm would need repairing soon.

Once they’d righted all the furniture and Genesis had stopped spitting Loveless verses like poison, they settled in to talk.

“Hollander said you could help.” Angeal told her. The first words he’d actually said to her.

“I don’t know if anyone can.” She said. Pragmatic as she had always been. The woman who’d whispered ‘stupid man’ when she’d heard of his father’s death. She had whispered it with tears in her eyes. Like he had failed. Like she had.

“Try.” Angeal urged quietly.

“Is it similar to how I was made?” Sephiroth asked. “Can I help?”

“You’re Hojo’s boy?” Gillian asked, looking him over. “Maybe, then. But I don’t know. That thing… We thought it was an Ancient when we started our work. I’m not so sure now.”

“Oh.” Aerith said, her voice soft and unusually frightened.

Angeal turned towards her with the others. Where she stood near the door, wrapped in Zack’s arms. A hole in her cloak that matched the new eyepatch Zack wore.

“Do you need an Ancient?” She had asked, her voice shaking with bravery.

_Sephiroth_ :

There was not much space in Angeal’s childhood home. That suited Sephiroth fine. He was happier out of that house. Especially after Gillian started her work. He was perfectly happy to give her what she required. His flesh, his blood, his cells, his DNA, whatever he could offer. But he was only raw material. A template.

He slept under the stars, with Cloud bedded down close. Genesis and Angeal stayed inside. Zack and Aerith stayed with them. Guarding. Protecting.

“Been a long time since we were alone.” Cloud commented quietly, staring up at the stars beside him. Close enough to touch, but they didn’t.

_I can’t_ , he reminded himself. But Genesis’s words echoed in his skull.

“Too long.” He agreed softly. “As glad as I have been for the company.”

“Seems like it might take a while.” Cloud said softly. “Their cure.”

“Yes.” Sephiroth agreed, watching the pale bands of color move out among the stars. Did Cloud see them, he wondered? He knew from his time in Wutai that no one else did.

“So,” Cloud turned towards him. “What’s next?”

“I need answers.” Sephiroth said softly. “Information. Anything. A weapon against him, or… Or perhaps just to understand why. Why me. Why him. What I am.”

“Oh, so, like, super easy stuff.” Cloud joked.

Sephiroth split into a smile, because he knew Cloud wasn’t being cruel. Cloud was never cruel with him. He was only difficult. Sephiroth… Enjoyed that difficulty.

“I’m coming with you, you know.” Cloud said. “When you go, wherever you go, I’m not letting you leave me behind.”

“It is my fault you are even part of this,” Sephiroth whispered.

“I’ve seen what I would have been if you hadn’t.” Cloud said softly. “It’s his heart that’s broken, Sephiroth. Not just his face.”

“I hurt you.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Before that.”

“Ah.”

Silence for a moment. Sephiroth looked at the stars. Cloud looked at him.

“Eh,” Cloud said, flopping back to stare up at them. “I’d have done it to you too.”

As easy as that. As simple as that, and he'd said more than anyone else. More than Sephiroth had hoped for. Not just forgiveness, but validation. Sephiroth smiled. Sick and sad and grateful.

He believed him.

“When I dream, he’ll be there.” Sephiroth murmured, letting out a slow breath. “Waiting to hurt me. What should I do, Cloud?”

“No idea.” Cloud said. “But I know that you have to fight. Giving up isn’t in the cards. It can’t be. Not if we’re all going to live through this.”

“Hm… What was it you said before? Be stronger than I am?”

“That’s what I keep telling myself. Literally.”

“You’re sure you want to come with me?”

“You just try to stop me, Sephiroth. I’ll out-stubborn you any day of the week.”

Sephiroth didn’t doubt him.

He dreamed.

The Other was perfect, and beautiful, and his long hair twisted in the ocean of his mind. He wielded Sephiroth’s sword in a hand that had never been cut off. Had never grown into something else.

“That’s fine.” Sephiroth said, standing before him, his hair cut short and a stump for his left arm. “I’m fine with the things I lost. You’re the one who lost everyone."

And when the Other came to hurt him, Sephiroth found he had a metal arm to block with. He found that the cage he’d built inside his mind could twist, and warp. Could contain.

He found that the Other did not handle losing ground well. He raged, and struggled against the bars. And Sephiroth was free, even if only for a moment, for what he’d intended to do.

He knelt by the broken Cloud’s side. This is my mind, he reminded himself, and made a bed for the empty-eyed man. Drew the blanket over his shoulder.

“Rest,” He murmured softly. “I will try to keep him away.”

“It won’t hold forever.” The broken Cloud warned him.

“It doesn’t have to. Do you know where I’ll find answers? Where I can find out what I need to know?”

“Yes.” The Broken Cloud replied. “But it’s dangerous.”

“For you?”

“For the new me. For you.”

“He’ll win eventually unless something changes. He’s stronger than me. He’ll hurt Cloud— My Cloud, that is. He already has.”

The broken Cloud stared at him. Too pale among the blankets Sephiroth had dreamed for him. Assessing. Appraising. Exhausted.

“Nibelheim.” He whispered at last. “Nibelheim.”

_Cloud:_

“You’ll be okay?” Cloud asked, shouldering the new bag Gilian had gifted them for the trip.

“Us?” Aerith laughed. “We’re staying here, safe and sound.”

“With two rotting psychopaths.” Genesis added helpfully.

“Stop.” Aerith said, and brandished the squirt bottle she’d been ending to Gillian’s potted plants with.

“We’re as safe here as anywhere.” Angeal had answered more seriously. “There’s no need to worry on our account.”

“Well, some need!” Zack said. “That’s why you have to hurry back, okay? And stay in touch! Your phone isn’t just for selfies, Spike.”

“Cloud, I…” Aerith paused. Hesitated. Looked down at the drop of water on the leaf she’d been spraying just a moment ago. Shook her head at it, as if it had said something disagreeable. “Keep him safe.” She whispered instead, smiling up at Sephiroth. “I know he’ll quietly pine for my radiant presence.”

“I beg your pardon, it is definitely my radiant presence that will be most sorely missed.” Genesis huffed.

“Sephiroth, tell them how much you’ll miss my radiant presence!” Zack whined.

Cloud glanced up at Sephiroth. Waited for more stone silence. For more heartbreak. Instead a small smile on that exhausted face that he loved so dearly, and Sephiroth looked to Angeal.

“I will miss your radiant presence very much, Angeal.” He said softly. “Don’t let the rest of them get into any trouble.”

“No promises.” Angeal laughed, even as the others burst into objections about their relative radiance.

They walked out waving over their shoulders, even to the clearly overwhelmed Gillian Hewley. Cloud didn't know if he _liked_ her, but she was at least more reliable-seeming than any Shinra scientists he’d ever met.

And Aerith was there to help, so maybe…

“So,” Cloud said dryly. “Nibelheim, huh? You’re going to hate it there. It’s cold.”

“You think I don’t like the cold?” Sephiroth asked beside him, still quiet, but willing to converse at least.

“We used to watch movies together, remember?” Cloud joked. “I know how cold your feet are.”

Sephiroth’s lips twitched into a smile, but it fell quickly. _Shit_ , Cloud thought. The scar on his shoulder didn’t ache anymore, and some days he genuinely forgot. He was sure Sephiroth never did. He hadn’t gotten away with just a scar.

But... Cloud swallowed. Aerith wouldn’t be here to hug him. Genesis wouldn’t be here to trim his hair as a pale excuse for a head massage. No Angeal for those strange moments when Sephiroth woke in the middle of the night and slipped away, imagining that no one heard him, but at least now followed by one of his friends. No Zack to jump on him after a battle, then apologize that he’d forgotten…

Cloud reached out his hand. Hovered over Sephiroth’s. Not the metal one. Looked up to him. Waiting for permission.

Sephiroth paused. Stood with him there at the edge of town, hanging between one disaster and the next.

He closed the distance.

Cloud set his palm against the back of Sephiroth’s hand. Curled their fingers together. Squeezed. It wasn’t hot. It didn’t burn. But it was warm. So warm. Cloud lifted their joined hands between them, holding on tight.

“If it happens again,” he said, “my turn to lose an arm. Okay?”

“No promises,” Sephiroth replied, breaking into a sweet, soft smile.

Cloud leaned closer. Pressed a kiss to their joined hands.

“Let’s go.” He whispered.

Zack texted ‘I miss you!’ before they were even out of Banora, and Cloud showed it to Sephiroth as they walked. They both shook their heads at his ridiculousness, and Cloud put the phone away without responding. He wouldn’t have let go of Sephiroth’s hand for anything.


	22. Hypothermia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to Nibelheim gets... Very cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh... Don't know if this needs to be said, but warnings for hypothermia in this chapter. Also, some body horror!

“It is genuinely unfair,” Cloud muttered into his scarf, “that snowstorms exist.”

“Mm.” Sephiroth’s face was tucked behind his own scarf, his eyes narrowed against the driving snow, flakes landing in his long, dark lashes.

_No, no, no_ Cloud told himself, dragging his eyes away and shoving his hands deeper into his own armpits in his too-thin-for-this jacket. _Don’t go all dreamy about his eyelashes right now._

He should have remembered, of course. That at this time of year there was no guarantee of nice weather this far North. But he’d let himself relax on the long trip here. The days of walking, jogging, racing across open, empty land. He hadn’t been prepared for how _fast_ he was now. He hadn’t really opened up to run since his last trip to the labs. Not except that one sprint through the woods when he’d heard fighting.

Now he’d had a chance to experiment. Or, no, that wasn’t really it.

He’d had a chance to _play_. And Sephiroth had played with him. Sprinting through forests at Cloud’s side. His incredibly long stride eating up the ground. Pausing only if he got too far ahead, hair whipping around his jawline as he turned back to wait. Smiling.

The world rolled under their feet as days passed. As they bartered work aboard ships for passage across oceans, and spent long days wandering and running, long nights laying side by side. As they dared to hold hands, but only when they were wide awake and strong. As they fought monsters together, and laughed together, and annoyed one another half to death only to make up again and again.

Zack called every day. Chatted with them on speaker phone, pestering the others to update them. Genesis was ill tempered, Angeal was miserable, and Aerith was anxious, but they were all well. Safe. And though there was not yet a cure, there was progress.

Cloud would take progress.

But as the days wound on, it happened more and more rarely that Sephiroth ended up ahead of him when they ran. Cloud got faster, yes. But Sephiroth was wearing thin. Cloud saw it in him. How much he needed to eat to keep up his energy. How tired he was in the mornings.

_‘I would literally murder someone for coffee.’ Sephiroth had sighed, more forlorn than anything, and Cloud pretended to laugh. Pretended that he didn’t know Sephiroth slipped away every morning and came back smelling like blood. Pretended everything was fine._

But that had all been before the _fucking blizzard._

It had been Sephiroth’s idea initially. He kept telling himself that. They were both enhanced, they were remarkably strong. Why go through the mountains, where they could be ambushed from both sides, when they could simply go over the mountaintops and straight to Nibelheim?

“ _This is why_!” Cloud reminded Sephiroth, yelling over the howling winds.

Sephiroth blinked slowly against the cold. Slid his gaze over to Cloud.

“Not what you said before.” He pointed out, calm and precise, as if the wind wasn’t stealing away their heat and words both.

“Well before I was being stupid, and now I’m not!” Cloud yelled back at him. Pretended it was the snow that made him lean a step over and shove their shoulders together playfully.

“What was it you said?” Sephiroth tilted his head up out of his scarf, lips pursed as he considered. “Something about ‘hell yes I hate those caves,’ or was it ‘I’ll race you to the top,’ or…”

“I can’t hear you!” Cloud called back, tapping his ear. “Wind!”

Sephiroth shook his head at him, stray silver hairs whipping out from under his hood as the snow drove around them.

“I said—”

The roar shook the ground. Cloud jerked his head up. Saw the great figure rise up out of the snow, the wind partially fueled by its beating wings.

“Great,” he said, even as Sephiroth called Masamune and he pulled Angeal’s old training sword off his back. A dragon was just what they needed. Definitely. Top of a mountain, check. Unstable footing, check. Teasing bordering on actual frustration, check. Freezing _fucking_ cold? Yes. Double check.

So yeah. Dragon made sense. And so did Sephiroth trying to call Masamune with his left hand, because it was still his instinct, even though his prosthetic wouldn’t work for it. And, yeah, Cloud should have expected the fire blast. He lifted his sword to block it, and yeah, that was good, good job mako and whatever super-powered slurry Hojo had shoved in him, great work on the reflexes only—

_Yeah_ , Cloud said to his super-powered slurry of cell-based-reflexes. _One thing, though, about snow?_

His feet slipped. Sephiroth whipped around towards him, and the dragon screamed, but that was a problem for later. Or, really, for Sephiroth. Because Cloud had his own problem. It was the sliding snow, the edge of the mountain peak, and the extremely long fall that followed it.

“Shit, shit, shit” Cloud gasped as the wind whipped around him and the cold burned him and—

He twisted in the air, tried to figure out which way was down as he tumbled in the white air, gave up, covered his head—

Crashed into the ground, bruising, breaking, crunching-- 

Oh, no, hah, his mistake.

That was the ground crunching. Not him.

It broke beneath him, and the world went—

Muffled, freezing, wet, _cold, cold, cold, cold—_

Cloud gave a shout. It came out garbled, muffled, an explosion of bubbles. At least they told him which way was _up_.

He clawed for the surface. His fingers met ice. Okay, he thought to himself, _now_ was a good time to have super soldier cells.

He punched up through the thick crust of ice. Crashed through it inch by inch, struggling blindly towards anything else, anything but the cold sink of water, he would take powdered snow and terrible wind and—

“Cloud!”

Oh, yes, he would definitely take Sephiroth. He spun, spotted him close by— a dark figure in the snow, reaching out to him. Cloud struggled that way. Reached and grabbed numbly at Sephiroth’s hand. Gasped in breath after breath as Sephiroth hauled him out of the water. It dragged at him, hungry, wanting, tugging at his legs, his boots, his—

“You’re okay,” Sephiroth was saying, dragging Cloud back onto solid land, laying gasping on his back. “You’re okay. I’m going to get these clothes off you.”

“F-forward of y-yo-u” Cloud’s teeth were chattering. Was that a good thing? That might be a good thing. He didn’t remember. It had been a long time since he’d had to worry about being this cold.

“Keep joking.” Sephiroth ordered. “Talk to me. Stay awake.”

His fingers fumbled at the laces of Cloud’s boots. Cloud wrapped his arms tightly around himself before getting his brain into gear. Trying to fight his sodden gloves off.

“I-I’m g-go-oing t-to—” He couldn’t get the sentence out past the chattering. Sephiroth dragged one of his boots off. Got to the other. Ripped the laces in his haste.

“You’re going to be fine.” Sephiroth said. Pulled off his socks. Moved to his pants. Brisk.

“Ugh,” Cloud lifted his hands to his face. Bricks of ice. He should be blushing.

“Cloud?”

“Embb-b-b—”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Sephiroth’s voice cut in. “You’ll be okay, Cloud. Dry clothes, some shelter, a fire. You’ll be fine.”

“M’ n-naked.”

“Not for long.” Sephiroth pulled his own pack off his back. Pulled free some of his own clothes.

“M-my—” Cloud blinked. Tried to think.

“Your bag is soaking. Mine will do. We’ll get them dry soon.”

Cloud didn’t register a lot more after that. It was hard to think, and he was staring up at the white mountain peaks. So high above him. There was something red, way up there in the blood. Something red. Just a small river of it. Sliding down the mountainside. Right up there where the dragon had been.

——————

Sephiroth had a fire going. Cloud blinked at it, slowly. It was a little fire. Smokey and damp, but nice. He could feel it. Warm. There was a lot of warm going on. Something warm and solid was all around him.

He slid his eyes up, and met Sephiroth’s eyes looking down at him. Blinked. Smiled.

“You’re hugging me.” He murmured. His words came out shaking. He shivered. Pressed closer to Sephiroth. Turned his face against his chest. The hand cradling his shoulders squeezed him.

“You needed the extra heat.” Sephiroth said softly. “If it starts to hurt, please tell me at once. I know it is a risk I only—”

“It’s not a risk.” Cloud murmured against his chest. “You’re not a risk. Gods, I’m cold…”

“You’re much warmer now than you were.” Sephiroth murmured.

Cloud curled his fingers experimentally. Lifted his hand. Wrapped in fabric. One of Sephiroth’s shirts? Maybe. A makeshift mitten. He hummed. Tugged at it till he could free his hand. He wanted it. Wanted to curl it in Sephiroth’s shirt. To anchor himself there.

“Careful,” Sephiroth warned. “I can’t hold the blanket over us.”

“Hm? Why?”

“My arm was sucking up heat. I removed it.”

Cloud blinked at him. Furrowed his brows. Opened his mouth to ask before he remembered.

“Oh! The metal one. Right. Sorry…”

“It’s fine. But you may want to—”

“Hm…”

Cloud curled a little tighter. Reached out. Tangled his hand in the blanket over Sephiroth’s left shoulder. Pulled it a little closer around them both.

“I’m warmer?” He asked dazedly. “I feel colder.”

“Your lips are still blue, but you’re shaking again.” Sephiroth assessed.

“Hmm. You should warm my lips up.”

“Cloud.”

“Don’t scold me, I’m cold.”

“Stop flirting.”

But Sephiroth was laughing. Soft and low, shaking in his chest, shaking Cloud. He was warm. He was close. He was…

Curling tighter around him. Pressing their heads together. His chest still shaking, but not laughing.

“It’s okay.” Cloud whispered, fumbling for his face. Running fingers like ice lightly over Sephiroth’s cheeks without lifting his face. “It’s okay.”

Sephiroth’s cheeks were dry. But his chest kept shaking for a long while.

“I thought…” Sephiroth whispered. “For a moment I thought…”

“I’m _from_ here.” Cloud muttered. “I would _never_ let Nibelheim kill me. I’ll kill Nibelheim.”

Sephiroth snorted softly. Pressed his face into Cloud’s hair.

“Maybe we should turn back.” He whispered into Cloud’s scalp, almost inaudible.

“Back through the mountain? No. Nope. No.”

“Not the mountain. Banora. Junon. Maybe we shouldn’t be here. Your other— The other Cloud. He said this was dangerous for you.”

“You don’t sleep right.” Cloud whispered. “You smell like blood in the mornings. You’re thinner. You’re tired all the time. If we learn more, we can fix it. Right?”

“Cloud—”

“We’re going.” Cloud whispered. Then he shivered again, hard. Dragged in a shaking breath. “In… In a minute…”

Sephiroth was silent. When he spoke, it was very quietly.

“You are so important to me, Cloud. I do not think I have made it clear to you how important.”

“You cut your arm off for me.” Cloud murmured. “I think it’s pretty clear.”

Sephiroth shook his head against Cloud’s scalp. His arm curled him tighter. Cloud realized only as Sephiroth curled around him that he was seated on the Soldier’s lap. He didn’t bother being embarrassed. Not at the moment. He just worked on warming his lips up by pressing kisses to Sephiroth’s chest, over and over.

—————

They slept curled together. They probably shouldn’t have, but gods. It was almost warm.

Cloud didn’t dream. He didn’t dream at all. No nightmares, no mask. A quiet, quiet night. He only woke because Sephiroth was squeezing him in his sleep. He blinked his eyes open to the sight of blessed sunlight filtering down from just outside the overhang Sephiroth had found for them the night before. The soggy burned-out campfire smoldered quietly nearby. 

Sephiroth was warm at his back. His right arm curled under Cloud’s head, serving as a pillow, and his left arm curled around—

No. Cloud blinked at the metal arm, abandoned in the snow by the fire. Looked down at his waist.

The thing curled around him was not an arm.

He looked up to the elbow in a slow sweep.

It was still Sephiroth.

That kept him from screaming.

It was like his scar, he realized uneasily. It was the same sort of colors as his scar. More green and purple than red and black, but the same. He reached down Touched it lightly. Solid. Flesh. It curled a little tighter, and Sephiroth made a soft noise against his back. Curled closer. Pressed his nose to the back of Cloud’s neck. Took a deep, deep breath.

Then he went very still. Stiff as a board. He pulled abruptly. The loss of his heat was like plunging into ice water all over again.

“Cloud,” He rasped, stumbling back from their bed.

Cloud lay still. Watched him. Looked at the way he was holding himself. The way the tendril coiled and twitched. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to say to that. 

Sephiroth slipped away before he could say anything.

He came back with a bloody stump on his left arm. Dropped to one knee by his metal arm.

“Don’t,” Cloud murmured, curling into the bedroll Sephiroth had left him in. “It’s been in the snow all night. You’ll freeze.”

Sephiroth didn’t speak. Knelt there by the somewhat battered mechanical arm. His eyes were on the ground.

“Every day?” Cloud asked, swallowing hard.

“Not every day.” Sephiroth replied. Left the rest un-said. Cloud understood anyhow.

“What have we got for breakfast?” He asked, forcing himself to sit up stiffly. “You need to eat.”

“Cloud—”

“Sorry, I might be a little brain-fuzzed, did you save my life yesterday? Super kind and efficient, took amazing care of me, kept me warm all night. Ring any bells?”

“I know it is—”

“Pretty upsetting that you’ve been cutting your arm off over and over?”

“That is not my arm.”

“It didn’t hurt me.” Cloud pointed out. “It didn’t hurt. It was just…”

“Don’t.” Sephiroth whispered. “Please.”

Cloud watched him. The sick look on his face. The way he’d stayed fixed in place, looking down at the snow.

Cloud stood stiffly. It hurt. His whole body ached. He forced himself to toddle over to Sephiroth, the bedroll still over his shoulders. He dropped down beside him, wrapping one of his arms and the bedroll around Sephiroth’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” Cloud muttered, leaning against him.

And after a moment, Sephiroth leaned back into him.

They started out late. When the sun was high, and Cloud could close his fist again. His sword was gone, on the bottom of a frozen lake. That was alright. It meant he could use its magnetic sheath to hold Sephiroth’s prosthetic— Too cold by far to be shoved onto the spit of exposed metal in Sephiroth’s left arm.

“Ready?” Sephiroth asked, hood drawn up over his silver hair.

Cloud hummed. Reached up to tuck the last of the silver fringe behind his ear.

“Ready.” He agreed with a nod. “Oh, but… You should call Zack while we walk. My phone’s somewhere at the bottom of that lake.”

“Ugh,” Sephiroth summoned a smile. Forced and small. “Can’t we let the lake talk to him?”

“Absolutely not.” Cloud replied, deadpan. “Who knows what it would say about me. It had its hands all over me last night.”

Sephiroth’s smile grew a little truer, and he snorted again. Shook his head. Shouldered his bag.

Cloud turned Northwest, took a deep breath, and started through the skeletal woods and the day-old snow, back towards his hometown.


	23. Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth and Cloud arrive in Nibelheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's... Some concerning relationship stuff in this chapter. If that's worrying to you, please proceed with caution!

Sephiroth’s first impression of Nibelheim was that it made him hungry. 

Not for the stew Angeal had put together on his mother’s fire out of their foraged herbs and hunted meats, augmented by his mother’s kitchen. 

_Gillian had not had enough bowls for them all, but had passed them what she had. Sephiroth had sipped the concoction from a mug. It had been delicious. Hearty. Better for being under a roof. For watching Gillian gently touch Angeal’s back, and Angeal not pull away. For hearing Zack loudly proclaim ‘I don’t get it. I’d love a wing.’ and Genesis laughing ‘see? He gets it, Angeal.’_

No. Not for anything anyone could cook. Not for anything he could eat.

But Nibelheim _did_ make him hungry.

So hungry.

Cloud’s steps lagged beside him. He paused. Looked to him. Face still too pale, eyes still a little unfocused, but remarkably recovered in comparison to the near-catatonic body he’d carried to shelter the day before.

“Cloud?”

“Sorry, I’m good. Just…”

“Hm.” Sephiroth looked to the rickety town gate. The name spelled out above it. It was nothing. It should have been nothing. His eyes were drawn towards the mountain towering behind it.

“How does it feel,” he asked, not really tasting the words as they left his lips. They were empty. Hollow. Starving. “Coming back to your hometown?”

“Um,” Cloud cut a glance over at him. “I dunno. It’s just…” He shrugged. Perhaps there was something about the shrug Sephiroth should have understood. “Why?”

“I don’t have one.” Sephiroth said, turning his eyes back to the dingy city. For all the white of the snow in the mountains, here it had mostly melted. Dripping off grey-brown roofs onto dull dirt. A nothing town. It looked like a corpse, already rotting on the mountainside.

“Uh…Huh.” Cloud shifted beside him. Sephiroth could see his unimpressed look out of the corner of his eyes. “You were born somewhere, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth shrugged.

“Then I don’t know it.” He replied, shaking his head. “Jenova— my mother— she died giving birth to me. My father…”

“He still around?” Cloud asked.

 _He nearly erased your mind a month ago altering your genetic structure,_ Sephiroth did not say. He also did not say _I handed you over to him just after we got to know one another, and you still have nightmares_.

He said “Why am I telling you this?” with a chuckle that changed, and grew, and ached into a laugh.

And Cloud shrunk back from him. Like Sephiroth had hurt him. Like Sephiroth had been cruel. Foolish, Sephiroth thought to himself, moving into the town with long, slow steps. He could have been much, much crueler.

“So,” Cloud’s voice sounded wrong. Too tight. He let it go. “What’s the plan? We just start knocking on doors?”

“You’re from here, right? Where would you suggest is the most suspect place here?”

“Aside from the reactor? Haunted mansion, I guess.”

Sephiroth glanced over. Followed Cloud’s pointing finger past the sad little water tower in the middle of town. To the gated building. Nodded his approval and walked towards it through the slush-wetted ground. An old yellow dog approached him, barking. Sephiroth didn’t even look. Behind him he heard Cloud’s footsteps pause.

“Hey, buddy,” Cloud was saying. “Just me. It’s alright.”

He glanced back. Watched Cloud crouch to ruffle the mutt’s ears and cup its jowls familiarly.

Kill the dog, something in him said, purring and desirous. He will look so sweet and confused.

Sephiroth turned away stiffly. Walked to the mansion. Heard Cloud jog a few steps to catch up behind him.

“You’re acting weird.” Cloud informed him, voice flat and calm.

“Someone is watching us.” Sephiroth replied, which he felt was true, though he could not tell where the eyes came from. He glanced back at Cloud’s serious eyes. The edge of anger in his gaze. Nodded quietly. “And the Other is active. I will need to be careful.”

“Fuck.” Cloud hissed. “Okay.”

The door to the mansion was unlocked. But inside it was almost unbelievably messy. Like a stage piece. Sephiroth was reminded of the haunted inn at the Golden Saucer.

“There are literal ghosts,” Cloud warned, hovering near the door.

“Switch between magic and physical attacks.” Sephiroth replied, unimpressed by Cloud’s concerns. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up.”

“I don’t think—”

“Within the same room.” Sephiroth added, glancing back at Cloud, fighting annoyance. No telling whose annoyance it was. “Knowing Shinra there may be a trap door, a secret compartment… Best to investigate as thoroughly as possible.”

“Okay.” Cloud muttered, and he— Was he pouting?

 _How sweet_ thought a voice that was and wasn’t his.

Sephiroth closed his eyes tightly. Thought of cages.

“I had best take my arm.” He said. Holding out his hand.

“Right, sure.” Cloud said quickly, pulling the cloth-wrapped bundle of Sephiroth’s arm off his back. He grunted softly, his brows knitting as he walked up to join him.

“It really is heavy,” He murmured, glancing up to Sephiroth.

“Better than nothing.” Sephiroth said, and took the prosthetic carefully without touching Cloud. Attached it with a well-practiced press and twist. Tested his fingers. Stiff, but workable. It had been designed to need charging once every few months. Mako powered.

It was starting to wear out.

“I’ll, uh… Take the left then.” Cloud muttered when Sephiroth said nothing more. Turned away from him.

Sephiroth watched him move. Thought of four nights ago, when despite their exhaustion they had heard distant music, from a town they didn’t dare visit. When Cloud had held his hand out to Sephiroth. Bowed, stately.

They had danced together. Slowly. Not a lesson. Something else. Sephiroth watched Cloud walk away from him, and remembered the weight of him, as Cloud leaned into his prosthetic arm in a motion too elegant to be a fall— too trusting to be anything else.

He dragged his eyes away and turned to the task at hand.. He wanted Cloud too badly right now to trust it. _He’s as much mine as yours. Without me you never would have—_

He pictured cages. This town made him…

There was nothing on the right side of the room. Cloud said ‘huh’ from the left though.

“Found a note.” He said, walking over to meet Sephiroth once more. “Instructions. Some sort of, like, scavenger hunt?”

Sephiroth felt his blood boiling as he looked at the note. He knew that handwriting.

“We’re in the right place.” He said grimly. “Come on.”

There was a conservatory upstairs. Cloud plunked a few forlorn notes on the broken piano while Sephiroth inspected the plants for more information. Melted snow dripped through the broken glass.

They found the secret door shortly after. The secret door, and the ragged staircase down.

“He loves games like this.” Sephiroth muttered, half to himself. “Cloud, perhaps you should—”

“No. Let’s go.”

The stairs held them, but it felt like a close thing.

A laughing, lumbering beast with two heads greeted them below. Cloud had to fight bare-handed. Shied away from contact despite himself. Switched to casting instead, though he’d never be a mage like Genesis or Aerith.

Sephiroth didn’t mind. He was more than capable. He split the creature down the middle. The two halves fell apart, still laughing. They did not dissolve into the lifestream. They merely vanished.

“We're wasting time.” Sephiroth muttered.

“Oh, what, we’re in a hurry now?” Cloud asked, though he was close on Sephiroth’s heels.

Sephiroth checked the first door on his left. Locked. Kept walking. There was something here for him. It was waiting for him.

The door at the end of the hallway opened. Opened into a library. Dark and cool and brimming with book after book after book. A work desk, still covered in notes, recently used, papers shifted and left strewn. Sephiroth could still smell Hojo. All those books. There was a Mako tube set up just in front of the desk, with an empty station beside it. All these books. What sort of—

“Don’t.” Cloud gasped. Grabbed Sephiroth’s wrist tightly.

The touch burned. Sephiroth yanked back and away. Turned towards Cloud, backing up. Cloud stared at him, horror on his face.

“Don’t touch me.” Sephiroth rasped.

“We shouldn’t be here, we need to go!” Cloud replied, his eyes flickering to the room.

“It’s a library. It could have some of the answers I’ve wanted my entire life, and you want me to turn around? Why? Are there more ghosts?”

“I’m not joking,” Cloud gasped, his words too breathy, coming between panicked gasps for air as his eyes flickered around the room. “I’m not— We need to go. We need to go now!”

“You’re panicking. Whatever’s happening to that broken self in your head, remind it we are in a different timeline now.”

He turned away from Cloud. Left him keening and gasping in the doorway. Walked deeper into the library.

 _There. Yes. There. You want those. You need them. We have so much to learn_.

“Sephiroth, please.”

_That’s the one. Jenova project._

“Jenova…”

“Sephiroth!”

Sephiroth blinked. Slow. Felt something strong and wild stirring inside him. It felt like freedom. Like running wild. Like letting his sword sing, bodies falling in elegant streams. Like— 

No. No, that was… He closed his eyes again. Freedom was Cloud’s palms in his, careful and trusting. Swaying slowly, ballet forgotten as they danced.

He took the book from the shelf. But he took it with him, back to the door. The door, where Cloud was wheezing for breath, eyes fixated in the room, gripping the open doorway tightly.

“Don’t put me back in,” He gasped, not even looking at Sephiroth. His eyes were on the tank.

“We’re going,” Sephiroth murmured. Touched his shoulder with the prosthetic hand. Steered him away.

“I know this place,” Cloud gasped, on the edge of a sob. “I know this place.”

Sephiroth squeezed his shoulder lightly. His human hand squeezed around the spine of the book.

“We’re going.” He murmured.

“Wait—”

“You’re the one who— “

“Stop it,” Cloud shoved his hand away. Turned on him with eyes that weren’t too-green, or too-bright, or distant and far away. They were just… Angry.

“Stop pushing.” He demanded, “ _Listen_ to me.”

Sephiroth lifted his hand and—

Froze. Froze dead still. Looked up at his own hand in quiet horror. Thought of the Other, striking Cloud. Striking him. Enjoying the struggle. 

Cloud hadn’t moved. He was glaring up at him, unafraid, but teary-eyed.

Sephiroth slowly forced his arm back to his side.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Don’t do it again.” Cloud warned in a hiss. “We’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to be _dating_.”

“I know. I’m… I’m not myself. I am listening.”

“The locked door.” Cloud said. “What’s he hiding?”

“Nothing good.” Sephiroth whispered in return. “That note you found… He loves games, Cloud, but they are only for pain. Only to hurt. He used to… That is…”

He remembered the ‘escape room’ Genesis had talked them into going to, once. Remembered looking at the clues, and the shining steel walls, and the cold voice over the speaker taunting them and—

He’d broken down the door. Ruined Genesis’s evening. Gone straight home. Paced in his room the rest of the night, still frantically trying to uncode information that he had not even found the clues for.

Cloud reached out. Sephiroth stepped back.

“Let’s see.” Cloud said softly, letting his arm drop.

Sephiroth cut the door down. There were coffins inside. Cloud walked to one as if he were in a dream.

_As if someone was taking advantage of my distraction._

Cloud knocked.

“Such a long nightmare,” a voice inside rasped.

“Holy fuck,” Cloud hissed, jumping backwards despite the fact that he’d been the one to knock.

The lid slid to the side. Dropped heavily. A clawed gauntlet gripped the side. Heaved upwards. Burning eyes fixed on them, ragged black hair falling in and about the pale face of the dead man.

“Who are you?” His voice was deep. Dangerous. “I have not seen you before. You must leave this place, before it drags you into sleep as well.”

“We owe you no answers.” Sephiroth said, taking half a step in front of Cloud.

Cloud stepped around him like he hadn’t even noticed.

“Bad dreams?” He asked, almost casually.

Ember-like eyes flickered over him, top to bottom. Sephiroth watched the golden claw flex and release.

“Why do my demons know you?” The dead man asked, wary and dangerous.

“Seems to be a common problem.” Cloud muttered. “I’m Cloud. This is Sephiroth. We were just—”

“Sephiroth?”

Those eyes fixed on him now. Burning. They were a muddy brown-grey to him, but he was aware none the less that they were burning. Sephiroth held his ground. Held the stare.

“You do resemble her,” the dean man whispered, awe and horror in his face. “But you are… You are grown. You cannot be Lucrecia’s child.”

“I know no such person.” Sephiroth informed him. “Nor do I know you.”

“I see.” The man’s gaze stayed fixed on him. He did not blink. “And what of the name Hojo?”

“Do you work for him?” Cloud asked, warning in his voice.

“No. Or, perhaps, no longer would be more accurate. It is because of him I lie here in nightmares. Because of him there will be no end to my torment.”

“I know him.” Sephiroth said.

“Is he your father?”

“What?” Cloud asked, turning his horrified gaze to Sephiroth.

“Yes.” Sephiroth replied, fixated on those eyes and their invisible color. There was something just behind them. Something he could almost see.

Cloud stared. Sephiroth did not turn to him. Did not explain.

“I see.” the dead man whispered. “This…” he looked to the door behind Sephiroth. His lips parted briefly, then closed. He shook his head. Gripped the lid of the coffin with his claws.

“This has only laid more sins upon my back.” He muttered. “Leave this mansion. This town. There is nothing for you here.”

He dragged the lid back on the coffin. Sephiroth turned to go.

“Are you fucking serious?” Cloud snapped, marching forward and crouching to hammer on the lid of the coffin again.

“Cloud—”

“I thought you wanted answers,” Cloud said. “This guy clearly knows something! Besides, he’s living in a _coffin_ under a _haunted mansion_ because of _Hojo_. I’m not leaving him here.”

Sephiroth stared at the stubborn blond, hammering on a coffin like the planet’s most confused necromancer. Then he shook his head slowly and let out a slow sigh.

“I’ll… See about procuring us a room at the inn, then.” He said. “While you work.”

“Don’t wander off,” Cloud warned, still knocking.

Sephiroth was halfway up the stairs when he heard the creak of wood and that low voice saying ‘ _enough_.’

 _Fool_ , Sephiroth thought, shaking his head. Cloud’s stubbornness was unmatched.

Which was, perhaps, the only reason he had survived this long.

—————-

Sephiroth was aware that he made a suspicious picture. Still, the woman working at the inn didn’t blink an eye. Took his money. Offered him dinner for an additional charge.

Sephiroth felt his body shake hollow at the thought of food. This town made him—

“Enough for three.” He said. “Thank you.”

She promised it the next hour. But Sephiroth was too anxious to simply sit around and wait. He went outside. Opened the book. Paced slowly in the quickly-chilling air as he started reading. Page one. Or, more, day one. An incredible discovery from underground. Nearly intact.

An Ancient.

The words blurred and swam before his eyes as he read. He stopped pacing. Stood in place. Turned back a page. Read it again.

“Excuse me?”

That couldn’t be right. Surely not.

“Hello?”

But then he had done so many unspeakable things. So many impossible, sickening things. Even now he was trying to grow Sephiroth’s discarded, rotting arm into something new. Even now—

“Tifa?”

He looked up at Cloud’s voice. Blinked as he realized there was a young lady staring at him, brows furrowed over brown-grey eyes. Not burning like the man downstairs, but close enough. Enough to send Sephiroth’s head swimming with still more questions.

The woman turned towards Cloud as he approached. Sephiroth blinked up at him as well. Took note of the strange figure perched atop the mansion, tattered cape blowing in the wind.

“Cloud! So that was you.” She said it with a soft laugh. Clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head. Her black hair swayed. Sephiroth could almost feel the motion in the ground beneath him.

The ground his mother had been—

“Yeah, I, uh… Here on a work thing.” Cloud said awkwardly, stopping at Sephiroth’s side. But _Cloud’s_ eyes. They were starry. Bright. The way he looked at Sephiroth sometimes.

_We stab her later. Bide your time._

“And you didn’t stop by to say hi?” The one Cloud had called ‘Tifa’ teased.

“It’s sort of a secret thing.” Cloud argued.

“Oh, super secret, pacing in front of the inn spacing out.” Tifa looked up to Sephiroth. Like she was trying to include him in some joke. He only stared back.

“Hey,” She said a moment later, her face falling. “Aren’t you…?”

“No.” Sephiroth said. “Cloud if you wish for time to visit your family and friends, feel free.”

“Hey, chill.” Cloud said, casting Sephiroth a strange look. “Tifa, I think we’re gunna need to visit the reactor while we’re here. It’s been a long time since I took the trek up there.”

“Ooh, need a tour guide?” Tifa laughed. “I can help you out! I’ll get the key from dad. And I’ll wear the cowgirl outfit!”

“The what?” Cloud said.

“Tomorrow?” Tifa offered, dipping closer, clearly flirting.

“S-sure.” Cloud didn’t back up from her. “Yeah. Thanks, Tifa.”

“Any time!” She said. “You’ll have to tell me about it, sometime!”

“About what?” Cloud asked.

“Well, coming back from the dead!” Tifa said. “All the papers said you’d died months ago. Funny how things get confused like that, huh?”

—————-

“We do not need a tour guide.” Sephiroth muttered, looking anywhere but at the book he’d set on his bedspread.

“Her dad’s the mayor.” Cloud argued, seated at the small table in their room at the inn. “He’s got the key to the reactor. We can be in and out and gone before Shinra catches up to us.”

“Your mother thinks you’re dead.” Sephiroth pointed out, lifting his eyes to Cloud. “Does that not worry you?”

Cloud didn’t answer him. There was a knock at the door. Sephiroth went to answer it. A tray with water and enough dinner for three, and a disinterested ‘good night’ from the proprietor.

Sephiroth walked over to the table. Dropped into a seat across from Cloud. Took a plate without looking at it.

“Three?” Cloud asked.

“In case you adopted the man from the basement.” Sephiroth muttered.

“Vincent.” Cloud identified. “He says he knew your mom.”

“Unlikely.”

“He’s been in the coffin a long time.”

“Thirty years?”

“He says it felt like twice that, but I checked the math. About thirty years, yeah.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Sephiroth muttered. Started eating, just to have something to do with his mouth other than talk. Something to do with his body other than hurt.

Cloud watched him. Pushed over the second of the three servings.

“Take the extra.” He said. “You’re wearing thin. Not surprising, considering the blood loss and—”

“Don’t.” Sephiroth warned. “You waltz through my life as if you know it all. The broken face in your head does not know me, Cloud. Neither do you.”

“Yes I do.” Cloud snapped. “I’d be willing to bet I know a hell of a lot more about you than you do.”

“How charming, you have something in common with my father.”

“No _way_ is he your—”

“Just _stop!_ ”

Sephiroth was panting. Shaking. Gast. Hojo he understood. But Gast?

_Specimen discovered—_

_Geological stratum suggests 2,000 years—_

_Subject still shows brain activity—_

_Subject will hereafter be referred to as—_

Jenova.

“Sephiroth?”

He swallowed. Look anywhere but the book. Grabbed the glass of water. Drank, and drank, trying to cool the fire inside himself. The terror.

_2,000 years—_

“Eat.” He muttered to Cloud. “We’ll venture to the reactor tomorrow.”

“We should go.” Cloud whispered, but it was muttered. Not quite petulant, but almost. Uncertain. 

Cloud poked at his dinner, but he drank deep. Fresh water had been hard to come by, and sterilization tasted awful. This was fresh and clear. Sephiroth refilled his own glass. Glad for one thing he could think about that didn’t make his mind swim. That didn’t—

He tried to focus on eating. His body was chewing on itself.

Why was Nibelheim so hungry?

Why was it making him so—

He glanced up at Cloud. There were tears brimming in his blue eyes as he poked at his dinner.

Sephiroth swallowed. Hesitated. He felt strange. Swimming. The damn book, and this town, and—

“How are you?” He asked softly. “After yesterday?”

“I’m fine after yesterday.” Cloud muttered, his voice tight with sorrow. “It’s today that hurt. Why are you so angry at me?”

“I’m not.” Sephiroth shook his head. It seemed to keep shaking a long time after he stopped. Like his mind was swimming. He took another drink of water. Swallowed hard around it.

“There is so much I don’t understand.” He whispered. “Myself, Genesis, Angeal… You…”

He dragged in a breath. Tried to fight not to look out the window again. Up at the mountain. The hungry mountain.

“Mother.”

“He was right.” Cloud whispered. “This is too much for you.”

“Who was right?” Sephiroth asked, lifting his eyes to Cloud.

“This is where you went insane.” Cloud said, his voice a ringing devastation in the broken well of Sephiroth’s mind. “Or lost your humanity, or died, or whatever you want to call it. But not before you burned down the town, and killed my mother, and Tifa’s dad, and turned on Zack and—”

Cloud grimaced. Put his head in his hands. Dragged in a shaking breath.

“You terrify him.” He choked. “And I’m starting to see why.”

Sephiroth wanted to reply. Wanted to speak. His head was swimming. Everything was swimming.

“I feel sick.” Cloud choked. “I can’t do this.”

I feel sick too, Sephiroth wanted to say. Stopped to inspect the feeling.

It wasn’t just his thoughts swimming.

He looked to the glass of water. Stared. Felt things moving in his stomach. In his blood. Thought of the innkeeper’s disinterested eyes, and Tifa’s smiling ‘all the papers said you died months ago’ and the carefully abandoned staging of Hojo’s office and…

What was it Angeal had said. Back when he and Genesis came for him in the lab. When they’d draped a blanket over him, as he shivered, wet with mako, on the floor. ‘The Turks orchestrated a problem in Hojo’s favorite small-town lab.’

There was a distant, distant sound. Barely more than a tickle. Almost lost over Cloud’s soft groan.

A helicopter.

“We have to go.” Sephiroth reached out blindly. Grabbed Cloud’s arm with his metal arm. Heard the way Cloud sucked in a breath. “We have to go _now_.”

He let the water glass and its drugged contents shatter on the floor. Dragged Cloud up, gasping, Pushed him towards the window. Paused only to grab their bags.

“What’s happening?” Cloud asked, fear in his voice.

“We’ve been drugged.” Sephiroth replied, shoving the window open. “This town is Shinra.”

“No. No, I grew up here. My mom—”

“May well work for them too. We have to go now. To the reactor, before it’s too late.”

Cloud stumbled. Reached out. Gripped Sephiroth’s metal arm instead.

“We need Tifa.” Cloud gasped. “I can’t guide us.”

“Fine.” Sephiroth replied. “Jump.”

“Sephiroth.” Cloud looked up. Eyes wild. “Don’t let them take me again.”

Sephiroth hesitated. Leaned forward. Kissed him. Daring. Soft. Afraid.

“Never.” He promised.

Cloud jumped. Landed hard in a tumble. Scrambled up to his feet and started running.

Sephiroth followed, a beat behind. One of his legs gave out. Sent him to one knee. He knelt for just a moment, breathing. Lifted his gaze to Cloud. Forced his feet to work. To catch up with him.

Cloud didn’t knock on the front door. He picked up a small stone, staggering as he bent to gather it. Lobbed it up with too much force. The window he’d targeted cracked.

But it got the attention of the one inside.

“Cloud! My window!” She called down to them, upset.

“Tifa,” Cloud gasped. “You— Know how we were talking about me being not dead?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Tifa’s anger melted. It was a visible thing. The way she looked between them.

“Poison.” Sephiroth informed her blankly.

“Want to help us stay not dead?” Cloud asked.

Tifa stared, and for a moment, Sephiroth thought this was a mistake. Then her face hardened into a serious, grim look. She nodded decisively.

“I’m getting my shoes on. Get to the bottom of the path. I’ll be there.”

“Hurry,” Cloud urged, turning to run without waiting for more.

The Other was singing as Sephiroth stumbled to follow. It echoed in him, light and playful and laughing. Almost childish.

 _Burn it down, burn it down,  
_ Burn the empty world back down.  
 _The broken town, its broken son  
_ They’ll only build another one

_———————_

In an empty hotel room, hastily abandoned, with a broken glass of water on the floor, a cell phone rang and rang. Left forgotten on the bed, beside a single book.

A finger pressed the answer call button.

“Sephiroth! Shinra found us, they— They bombed Banora! We’re all—”

“Zack,” said Tseng, slowly. “You’re a little late.”

A long silence. Tseng almost laughed. Almost.

“Let them go.”

“Not my call to make.”

“There were people in Banora, Tseng. Good people.”

“Harboring fugitives.”

“How could you make Cissnei do it? How could you give the order to do it at all?”

“You called in all your favors, Zack. Be grateful. For the time they gave you. How is Aerith, by the way? I trust she made it out safely. The professor would be most displeased if he no longer had a living Ancient for his research.”

“Don’t do this.” Zack begged.

“Thank you,” Tseng said. “For talking long enough for me to trace you.”

“Fuck!” Zack’s line went dead.

Tseng clicked through to the call history. Daily calls from the same number. He wiped the history like they should have been doing the whole time. Let the phone fall back to the bed untraced. A little fear for Aerith would keep him on course. If he came to Nibelheim, he’d be as trapped as Hojo’s other lab rats were. Scurrying up the mountain towards the reactor. Exactly where Hojo wanted them.

“Good luck.” He muttered to the phone, and turned away, straightening his tie.

As far as he was concerned, that conversation had never happened.


	24. Exhaustion | Sleep Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth and Cloud reach the reactor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Sephiroth's continuing self-harm situation, mind-control, stressful situations, and sleep deprivation.

“Come on.”

Sephiroth’s voice. Cloud gripped the side of the cliff. Spat again. Blinked the tears out of his eyes.

“Give him a minute,” Tifa objected, her hand still on his back, steady and cool. He was too hot. He was burning hot, and the world was swimming, and that was _not_ his favorite way to climb a mountain.

“I would if we had a minute.” Sephiroth objected. “Stay with him. I’ll go ahead.”

“No.” Cloud growled. Clawed his hands. Forced himself to his feet. “We’re going together.”

“You’re sick.” Tifa said, her hand still steady on his back.

“So’s he.” Cloud nodded ahead of them to Sephiroth. He wasn’t looking at them. His gaze was fixed on the towering mountain. On the distant lights of the reactor.

Behind them, the helicopter was landing in Nibelheim.

“I can do this.” Cloud said, turning his smile to Tifa. “We’ve gotta get up there and then get out.”

“They’re trying to kill you, aren’t they.” Tifa whispered, sticking to his side as he started climbing again. “The Shinra. But why?”

“We ran.” Cloud put one foot in front of the other. Ahead of them, Sephiroth moved like he wasn’t real. There was no terrible weight in his steps. He moved lightly. Like the drugs weren’t dragging his limbs down. LIke he wasn’t so dizzy the mountain rocked beneath him. “They were— Shinra’s experimenting on people. As well as a lot of… Of other really fucked up stuff.”

“Whoa.” Tifa muttered, pausing only for a moment. “Sorry to hear it. I know it was your dream. Soldier.”

“Yeah.” Cloud muttered. “Got a new dream now. ‘S called living through this.”

“You could run.” Sephiroth offered, not turning around. “You never had to come.”

“No way.” Cloud pushed himself forward. Two heavy steps. Grabbed Sephiroth’s arm. The safe one. He knew very well it wasn’t just Sephiroth in there, floating his way up this mountainside. “We’re in this together.”

Sephiroth didn’t look at him. His eyes were fixed on the mountain. Cloud shook him by his arm. Sephiroth’s expression tightened in discomfort, his eyes squinting, his body swaying dangerously. He looked down to Cloud. Dragged in a slow breath.

“Stay with me.” Cloud insisted.

Sephiroth swallowed. Nodded.

“Well, if we’re not running away, we should hurry.” Tifa said, motioning them forward. “I can see search lights behind us.”

Cloud’s feet dragged. He forced them to keep up with Sephiroth’s long, too-light stride.

He held onto his metal arm with both hands.

—————

The bridge gave out under them, just like it had when Cloud was a kid, when Tifa had come up here, all those years ago, and—

Sephiroth caught them. Cloud’s wrist, tightly in his metal hand. Tifa tucked under his right arm.

Cloud couldn’t help but stare up in horror at the enormous, arching wing sprouting from his back. Then the metal arm gave a disturbing lurch around his wrist, and Cloud scrambled. Clung on with his other hand until Sephiroth hand landed them safely on the other side of the ravine.

“A wing.” Tifa whispered, shaking so hard she sank to her knees when he set her down.

“Your arm,” Cloud whispered, trying to roll up Sephiroth’s sleeve, to check on the metal arm. Its fingers twitched. Something sparked.

Sephiroth gripped the metal bicep harshly. Twisted and pushed it back into place.

“No time.” He said grimly, though the look on his face… 

Cloud swallowed, watching Sephiroth walk past him, looking like he wanted to scream and cry.

“Come on,” He whispered to Tifa, holding his hand down to her. There was a bruise around his wrist from the grip of Sephiroth’s prosthetic. Tifa’s hold was strong, even though her fingers were shaking.

——————-

The reactor was empty.

No, scratch that.

There were no people in the reactor.

At least, Cloud thought, staring at the hissing pods and their captives, there weren’t any people anymore.

“Jenova.” Sephiroth whispered, gazing up at the doorway ahead of them.

“Does it mean something?” Tifa asked.

Sephiroth stepped away from Cloud. Climbed the stairs two at a time, as if he was in a trance.

Cloud turned to Tifa, and from the look on her face he was sure she could see the fear in his eyes.

“Wait outside,” Cloud whispered. “If anyone comes, run. You know the back way, right? Through the caves?”

“Yes. But—”

“Signal us if you can, but you have to get away. Got it?”

“Right. He… Is he okay? That’s Sephiroth, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And he’s not okay. That’s why I’m going with him. We’ll be out soon okay?”

“Okay.” Tifa whispered.

Cloud didn’t wait to watch her leave. He stumbled up the stairs after Sephiroth in a body finally, finally starting to feel a little less numb.

He was already out over the open mako when Cloud caught up. Stepping lightly along a heavy, wide, red pipe. He moved the way he had in Cloud’s dance classes. A hesitant delicacy. His boots sure and light in every step up towards the silver angel suspended in the tangle of wires over the mako chamber.

“A statue?” Cloud asked, moving forward slowly out into the room.

The smell hit him all at once. Mako. Mako, filling his lungs, and his head, and his—

He staggered. Swimming in his mind, in his body. Gripped the railing. Stared down into the mako below.

“Only a distraction,” Sephiroth whispered. 

There was something strangled about his voice. Cloud dragged his eyes up away from the Mako.

Sephiroth was staring up at the statue’s face with a look like rapture in every line of his body. He lifted his hands slowly towards her. Took one last step closer. For a moment it looked like he would kiss that cold, gleaming statue. Then he gripped the sides of the angel’s torso. Propped one foot against the base of the machinery.

He pulled. Wires tore, metal screeched, a shrieking, tearing, rending sound, and the mako--no--the lifestream?-- echoed it, howling, and screaming, and there was a broken mask somewhere in Cloud’s dreams screaming, and screaming, and screaming.

The metallic angel’s rapturous face cried as it was cast aside. Oil pouring from its hollow eyes.

Cloud felt his blood run cold. The reactor was not empty. There was someone inside it. A woman, decaying. Her head crowned with a metallic piece of equipment bearing her name. Her body strange and impossible. A dull, dead eye where a nipple should have been. Twisted stumps of flesh on her back that could have been arms or wings.

She smiled out at them. Dead, but not dead. Not dead. No, because her eye— A dead eye couldn’t glow like that. She smiled with intent. With purpose. She smiled, and even though she did not move or speak, even though she was dead, Cloud knew she was smiling at—

“Mother,” Sephiroth rasped.

— her son. At her loyal son, returned to her through time. At her young son, meeting her for the first time. Behind glass, suspended in mako. Not pouring it into her, but piping it out. Out into those monsters they’d walked past. Out into the world. Spreading her genes, her presence, _her_.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud called, but his voice failed. It was weak, and small, and Sephiroth was standing before her, caught in rapture. Sephiroth’s hand was caressing the tank, wanting. A starving child looking in the window at all he ever wanted.

She would make him happy, Cloud thought, and it made him want to scream. His mother would love him, and it would make him happy, and nothing else would ever touch him, not ever again and—

“Sephiroth, please!” His voice caught this time. He forced his knees to hold. Be stronger, he begged of himself. Please be strong enough.

Sephiroth’s wing flared behind him. Held his balance as he twisted back to look at Cloud.

“Don’t insert yourself where you aren’t wanted, my Cloud.” Sephiroth whispered.

“Is he really happy?” Cloud called up to him, then shook his head. “Are you really happy?”

“Yes.” The Other said from inside Sephiroth’s skin. From inside his body, with is missing arm, and its short-cropped hair, and its simple clothes, and Cloud felt sick. Felt the world swaying under his feet.

“But you can’t be.” Cloud whispered. “You won’t be. Not like he is. You _know_ better, Sephiroth. He was wrong, and you know better!”

“Do I?” Sephiroth blinked, and that surety, that smile, fled him. Left him drained and sorrowful, standing precariously balanced between two worlds. “Look at her, Cloud. Do we actually know _anything?_ She was here two thousand years ago, and since then she has slept, and waited, and I.. I know her. I hear her. She is part of me, because I have already loved her. I have already let her in. She knows so much. There are so many other worlds than this broken one. Worlds where I would be worshiped.”

“Why do you want to be worshiped?” Cloud asked, his voice choked. “That’s not the Sephiroth I know.”

“I am not human.” Sephiroth said. Cloud could see something at the corner of his mouth. Grimaced as he realized the poison was dripping out of him. Foaming at the corner of his lips. “I am a... superior being. You do not know me at all, Cloud. You only know the mask of humanity I wear.”

_We shouldn’t have come,_ mourned the mask inside Cloud’s mind. _He is lost. He is gone. Run._

Cloud dragged in a hollow breath. Lifted a hand to his chest, where it felt like his heart was splitting to pieces.

“You’re talking about your whole life,” Cloud managed, clenching his fist. “That’s not a mask, Sephiroth. You’re just _afraid_.”

“Silence, traitor,” Sephiroth hissed, his left hand extending as if to summon Masamune. He blinked when the sword didn’t come. When he looked up again, his eyes were terrified.

“Cloud,” He whispered. “Help me.”

“We have to go,” Cloud said, pushing himself forward, towards Sephiroth. Holding his hands out to him. “Come with me. We have to go.”

“If we leave her here, we’ve accomplished nothing.” Sephiroth whispered. “It’s her, Cloud. She called the Other back. She’s calling me to her now, I— She’s at the center of this. Shinra _can’t_ have her.”

“We can’t carry a body and get away.” Cloud argued. “We’re wiped out, and she’s clearly too dangerous!”

Sephiroth was silent for a moment. Then he held out his right hand. Dragged in a sharp breath. Whirled and slashed. The tank broke open. The body slumped as the liquid mako poured down around Sephiroth’s boots, back into the screaming void below. The head stayed in place, tangled hair and wires, and Sephiroth reached—

“No,” Cloud said. Took a shaking step up towards Sephiroth. “I’ll carry it.”

He almost fell into the mako. Sephiroth steadied him, his wing spreading in the air as a counter-weight. Instinctive and natural.

Jenova’s hair curled around Cloud’s hand as he gripped her by it.

“Careful,” Sephiroth whispered, and Cloud saw him looking not at him, but the woman’s head, dangling from his hand. As if he was worried for her.

“She’s dead, Sephiroth.” Cloud said, and tried to believe it, even as her hair clung to his hand. Even as he felt a strange, scratching pressure at the base of his skull. Something wanting to be let in…

“Cloud!”

He nearly jumped out of his skin. Gasped hollowly, whirling to Tifa where she stood frozen in the doorway, looking at the two of them.

“They’re here!” She said before her eyes landed on the head tangled in Cloud’s grasp.

“I told you to run.” Cloud complained.

“You don’t look too good,” Tifa said, her eyes over Cloud’s shoulder, on Sephiroth. “Neither of you. You need all the help you can get.”

“They may kill you.” Sephiroth said, his voice dull.

“They can try.” Tifa said with a smile just edging out of sweet and into wild. “They haven’t found the back way off the mountain, I don't think. If we can get inside the cave and collapse the entrance—”

Cloud’s hand was starting to burn. Trails of liquid fire where Jenova’s hair was tangled around his hand and finger. He knew that kind of burn…

“Worth a try.” He said. “Sephiroth?”

“Even if I were the Other, I would follow while you held her.” Sephiroth whispered. “Beware. He is loose within me.”

Tifa cast Cloud a confused look.

“Explain later,” Cloud said. “Live through it now.”

There was noise outside. A lot of noise. The rack of guns, the shouting of commands.

“Stay behind us,” Cloud advised Tifa. “We can take a few shots before we go down.”

“No chance of a plan where we don’t get shot, then?” Tifa asked hopefully.

“Side door.” Sephiroth said.

Cloud glanced back to him. Followed his gaze to the empty right wall.

“Uh,” he said after a moment. “You’re in the right timeline, right?”

Sephiroth’s lips twitched upwards. He looked down to Cloud, his bright eyes his own. So far as Cloud could tell.

“I was suggesting we make one.”

There was a high whine of feedback from outside. Then a speaker. The loudest Cloud had ever heard. And so familiar.

“Cloud, honey, please.”

“Mom,” Cloud whispered, staring at the closed front door.

“No one wants to hurt you, sweetheart. Just come out with your friends, alright? Everything’s going to be okay, sweetheart!”

Cloud felt his eyes well with tears. How long had it been since he heard her voice? How long since he’d even written? Not since that night he’d almost died. He hadn’t been able to think of anything but the dazed letters he’d written her in his mind as he died and—

He looked to Sephiroth. Took a shaking breath. “Side exit.” He whispered.

“Useless woman,” Someone muttered, just barely audible off the speaker. Cloud felt his mouth go dry. Felt panic claw at the back of his throat. He knew that voice, he knew, he—

“Just leave them inside,” The voice continued, ranting, laughing, “he will have found it now. With her guidance, we may be witness to the birth of a completely new life form!”

“He’s here.” Cloud whispered, his whole body shaking. “Why is he here?”

“To watch us fall.” Sephiroth murmured, turning to the wall. “Let us give him a different show. Stay close, Miss.”

“It’s Tifa.” She muttered, even as her hands closed on Cloud’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“One,” Sephiroth called Masamune into his hand.

“Try again.” Said a voice outside, smooth and calm.

“Cloud, baby, please. I miss you. I was so worried.”

“Two,” Cloud tightened his hold on Jenova’s burning head.

Gunfire tore through the air outside. Shouts followed, loud and wild and panicked. Distantly, Cloud heard Hojo say “now _there’s_ a surprise.”

“Three.”

The gunshots didn’t phase Sephiroth. He slashed the wall to pieces. Burst through it. Cloud wrapped his free hand around Tifa’s waist and followed, jumping out of the side of the building and landing in a deep crouch. He glanced towards the panicking troopers and the firing guns, and—

There was a tattered, red splash of color against the dark sky, explosions of gunfire erupting from it. Focused on—

Of course. He’d said—

“Go,” He told Tifa, pushing her forward. She knew the way, they were busy, He pushed himself up. Smiled when he realized SEphiroth had paused to watch him. Then they were moving. Towards the opening in the cave.

“There!” 

His mother’s voice. Oh, gods, no. His mother’s voice and she was—

This town belongs to Shinra, Sephiroth had said.

“Vincent!” Cloud yelled, even as there were screams from those in charge, trying to draw attention to the fleeing escapees even as the Troopers tried to survive the assault from the nearly-flying gunman. “This way!”

Vincent vanished in a flicker of red. Closed the distance in two jumps. Eyes burning. Cloud pushed him into the opening after Tifa and Sephiroth without a word of hello. Dropped the head inside. Turned, already readying his best fire spell, knowing Sephiroth was doing the best behind him.

The last thing he saw before they brought the cave entrance down into a disaster of rubble was Hojo’s delighted smile and his mother’s tear-soaked face.

————--- 

“Give it to me.”

Tifa gasped, jerking her head around to look back at Vincent. Cloud understood the impulse. It was so dark and he had been so quiet, it was easy to forget he was there, and then that deep, low voice—

He might have jumped too if he hadn’t been so damned exhausted. Behind them, the pounding hammering of people trying to break in kept driving them forward. Ahead of them, Sephiroth, held the flashlight from their pack, illuminating the empty dark of the cavern.

“The flashlight?” Sephiroth asked, glancing back in confusion.

“The head.” Vincent replied flatly.

Cloud stumbled to a stop when Sephiroth did. Almost ran into him. Blinked slowly. Dragged in a breath.

“Cloud.”

He lifted his eyes to Vincent.

“It’s burning your hand. Give it to me.”

“What?” Sephiroth blinked. Shifted the flashlight to Cloud’s hand. Jerked it away again with a faint sound, almost like a whimper, as it illuminated shining silver hair and a smiling face and—

“It’s dangerous.” Cloud said wearily.

Vincent just held out his clawed gauntlet. Cloud hesitated, then lifted his hand. Held the gruesome head before him. Vincent’s sharp talons were delicate as he worked them into the hair around Cloud’s fingers. Cloud had to pull the hair off of his hand. Had to pull it out of the little crevices it had burned into his gloves and skin.

“Let me see,” Tifa whispered, holding her hands out.

“It’s okay,” Cloud murmured, but he let her take his wrist. Pull off the glove. Sephiroth hesitantly lifted the flashlight again. Took a step closer, inspecting the damage.

“You didn’t say anything.” Sephiroth whispered.

“She’d have done worse to you.” Cloud replied, not looking at the snaking lines of green and red and black criss-crossing his hand.

“Do you have medical supplies in your bag?” Tifa asked Sephiroth, lifting clear, bright eyes to him. It was strange, how lively she seemed in comparison to the rest of them.

Sephiroth nodded silently. Passed her the flashlight. Knelt with his bag.

“It won’t heal.” Cloud warned wearily.

“Worth a try.” Sephiroth murmured, his motions slow and deliberate.

“You’re alright with it?” Cloud asked, looking to Vincent.

Burning red eyes were already fixed on him under the red headband and his tangled black hair.

“I have carried worse.” Vincent said, keeping his chin tucked behind his cowl. “I will inform the group if I experience any discomfort. Which I suggest we put into practice as a whole from this point on.”

“He’s right, Cloud.” Tifa said softly. “You should have told us.”

“It’s worse for Sephiroth.” Cloud said, shaking his head.

“Don’t make me your scapegoat.” Sephiroth muttered. “Miss Lockheart, if you would tend to his hand. It is likely I would only make it worse.”

“Seriously, please just call me Tifa.” She said with an awkward laugh. Traded the flashlight for medical supplies.

Cloud tried not to wince as she cleaned the burns on his hand. She was a little rougher than he’d thought she would be, but she was thorough. Disinfectant did not miss a single inch of the burns. Cloud swallowed when the alcohol wipe she had been using came away black.

“Try not to touch it.” He warned. He already felt a little better. A little stronger. The itch like something trying to get inside his skull had settled down.

“Wish you’d given yourself that advice a few hours ago.” Tifa fired back.

“Hah.” Sephiroth muttered. “She’s got you there.”

—————

Nibelheim was quiet and dark. They stuck to the shadows. Paused only once, when Cloud turned to Tifa.

“You could go home,” He whispered. 

But Tifa shook her head, put both her hands on his back, and stared pushing him forward.

The only light came from the stars overhead and the dull red glow of Jenova’s eye.

—————-

They fled through the night, never pausing except for an occasional re-tying of a shoe. Cloud had been prepared for Tifa to slow them down. She did not. He, however, did. His feet dragged, and his body didn’t want to cooperate.

“I believe that whatever they put in our drinks would have killed a normal man.” Sephiroth said quietly when Cloud apologized for having to stop once more, braced on his knees, trying to breathe.

“Here,” Tifa said. Put one hand on his chest, one on his back, and straightened him up with a brisk motion. “It feels better down there, but you’ll catch your breath faster standing up straight.”

“She’s right.” Vincent said.

“Do you even breathe?” Cloud asked, a little too annoyed to be teasing.

“I did once.” Vincent replied, and Cloud honestly couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not.

Sephiroth had his eyes fixed on Jenova’s head again, Cloud noticed. He reached out. Gripped his metal arm. Held on tight. Sephiroth managed to drag his attention back. Eventually.

When the sun began to rise, Tifa asked “not to be a stickler, but where are we headed?”

“Banora.” Sephiroth replied. “We have friends there.”

“They’re late to call.” Cloud pointed out.

Sephiroth hesitated. Touched a hand to his pocket. Blinked slowly.

“I left the phone.” He whispered.

Cloud should probably have been angry. Should probably have been scared, or worried. But…

“Well,” He said with a sigh. “I dropped mine in the lake. So I can’t fault you.”

“Do you know the number?” Tifa asked. “I can lend you mine.”

Sephiroth did know the number.

It went straight to voicemail. Zack’s voicemail. So, it was stressful _and_ annoying.

‘ _Hey, you nearly reached Zack Fair! So close to being your lucky day! Leave a message after the beep. Beep! Not that one, that was me. Beep! Haha! No, me again. Sorry, okay, leave a message after the—”_

“Zack, change your message. This is Sephiroth. We hit trouble, but we are heading back. This number is safe for now. It belongs to…” He glanced at Tifa, stopped halfway to saying ‘miss.’ “A person named Tifa. Call us back here.”

But he didn’t.

—————

They didn’t stop to rest until Cloud couldn’t go any farther. Tifa wasn’t much better off by that point.

Sephiroth had pulled the backpack off Cloud’s back while he sat on the ground, completely wiped out. Tifa checked his hand gently, and changed out the bandages. The old ones were stained black on the inside.

“Please use my bedroll, Tifa.” Sephiroth said softly.

“You need to sleep.” Cloud warned.

“Soon.” Sephiroth promised. “I will be fine on the ground.”

“Mm…” Cloud blinked wearily. Looked up to Vincent. “You want mine? You saved our skins, showing up when you did.”

“I have slept for thirty years.” Vincent said dully. “I believe I shall not need to again for some time.”

Cloud hummed. Rubbed his eyes. Jenova stared at him from Vincent’s claw.

“We should cover her.” Cloud muttered.

Sephiroth hesitated, then unfastened his cloak. Glanced back as it slid _through_ his wing. As if it wasn’t really there. Held it out to Vincent.

“I’m quite warm enough.” He muttered, and Vincent accepted the fabric without question.

Cloud fell asleep before he could consider anything more.

————-

“He made it out,” he whispered to his mask. “He chose me.”

“It is not done,” The broken half of his face whispered. “The… The Sephiroth I knew. Know… He will not stop.”

“That’s fine.” Cloud said, closing his eyes tightly, Shaking his head. “Mine won’t stop either. He’ll fight. He’ll win.”

The broken face was silent.

“Do you have more I need to see?” Cloud asked softly.

The mask blinked. Said nothing. Cloud lifted it to his face slowly. Looked out through the blank eye.

_“My sweet puppet,” Whispered Sephiroth. Hair long, wing spread, cruelty in the joy of his smile. “Won’t you come back with me?”_

_“Stop this!” His own voice. Desperate. His sword was wavering. “You’re dead, Sephiroth! Stay in my memories, where you belong!”_

_“You still don’t see. It is your memories that have kept me alive. Allow me to give you the same gift. You will exist only in my adoration of you. Give yourself to me, Cloud. If you do not, it will only break you. I will not permit you to stop existing.”_

Cloud woke with a soft gasp to a bright day. Sat up stiffly. Looked around. Sephiroth stood nearby, looking out into the distance. He smelled like blood. His left arm had been cleaned and re-attached.

He no longer had a wing.

Cloud did not ask.

—————

Sephiroth hadn’t slept. It was clear in how weary his eyes were. He didn’t speak much, but he also didn’t slow them down. Didn’t complain. Didn’t try to take the head, now bundled up in a cloak. He and Vincent both seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of direction. They kept the group headed Southeast without needing to check the time or the sun.

Zack didn’t call. Tifa’s father did. She declined the call, over and over.

“It’s okay.” She said when she caught Cloud’s worried look. “I was never going to stay in Nibelheim _forever_.

They stumbled upon a pair of Bahba Velamyu not long afterwards. Their first fight after leaving town. Cloud lifted his fists, ready to defend Tifa. Vincent pulled his gun with his free hand. Sephiroth summoned Masamune to his right, sinking into stance, ready.

Tifa burst forward first. Punched the first monster right in its toothy maw. Darted back again without hesitating.

“What is that stance?” She asked Cloud, deeply skeptical. "Who taught you to fight barehanded?"

Cloud might have been staring a little. Vincent’s low chuckle was almost covered by the retort of his gunfire. Sephiroth slid forward, slashed the creatures to bits in a smooth motion.

“You only got ‘em because we loosened ‘em up for you.” Tifa said playfully.

Cloud snickered. Sephiroth didn’t. He flicked a piece of monster flesh off his shoulder, and turned Southeast again.

————

That night, Cloud bedded down near Tifa, and Sephiroth stayed sitting up.

“You need to sleep,” Cloud murmured, smiling as Tifa shuffled down to settle in her place.

Sephiroth was watching him when he looked back up. Reached out with his left hand. Slowly, gently, rested it on Cloud’s shoulder. Cloud hummed. Reached up, drew the hand closer gently. Curled up with it resting on his neck.

“I’m alright.” Sephiroth murmured. “Sleep.”

Cloud woke much later, from another dream of his other. The sky was dark and wild with stars. Sephiroth’s hand was still resting at the join of his neck and shoulder.

There were quiet voices over the crackling of the fire. They matched each other. Low and deep.

“And Cloud.” Vincent was saying. “You love him?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anything. I don’t know if that’s a word that applies to things like me.”

“Hm. I can tell you only that I am monstrous, and still I would say I love Lucrecia.”

“You were human once, though.”

“Yes. And I failed her terribly as a human. Which is why you never knew me. Which is, I suppose, why you had Hojo and not her. 

“You are certain?”

“Absolutely. She was your mother. This thing I carry for you— It is certainly something. Part of you. But not a mother.”

“I… See. I will consider it.”

“I see that you are haunted, Sephiroth. You need not be haunted alone.”

“That is one way to say it.” Sephiroth murmured.

Cloud shifted despite himself. Curled. Sephiroth’s metallic hand shifted. Slid delicately over Cloud’s chest. 

“Rest,” Sephiroth murmured. “Rest.”

—————--

As the sun started to set on their third day on the run, Sephiroth faltered. Cloud had been waiting for it. Watching him. Not out of any cruelty or desire to feel him fail. It was just… Impossible. Impossible that he was sleepless, again, after being poisoned, while fighting the Other, while faced with whatever it had been he’d read in that book, with whatever he’d done to his wing, with the blood loss—

He wasn’t hoping for it, but he was ready when it happened. When Sephiroth went to take a step, and his leg gave out, and he went down. Not all the way, just to one knee. Hesitated there, wavering. Cloud was by him in a moment. Tifa wasn’t far behind him, but Cloud glanced at her, and she met his eyes and…

“Vincent, why don’t we see if we can get some hunting in real quick?”

Thank the gods for Tifa.

“You with me?” Cloud asked softly, once Vincent had wandered off with a long, searching look.

Sephiroth blinked slowly. Eyes dull, surrounded by dark circles. His gaze slid to Cloud.

“You have to rest.” Cloud whispered. “You’re exhausted, Sephiroth.”

“If I sleep, he will snuff me out.” Sephiroth whispered. “The minute I fall asleep. I know he’s waiting in there.”

“He won’t win.”

“He might. I can’t risk it. Not until you’re safe.”

“I’m safe.”

“No. The others. Then.”

“And until then?” Cloud took his metallic hand. Held it in both of his. He knew real touch would scare him. Stress him. Make it worse.

“I just have to push through.” Sephiroth murmured. “Be stronger than I am. Right?”

“Did you cut off your wing?” Cloud asked softly. “Your arm and your wing both?”

“The wing didn’t grow back.”

“You have to stop.” Cloud argued softly. “They’re parts of you.”

“They’re parts of me like _she_ is. Like the Other is. I don’t want them.”

“Then fight them. But not by cutting yourself apart.”

“Cloud.” Sephiroth’s voice was strange. Raw. Broken. “Please.”

“I’m not trying to fuss at you. I swear. I just… I’m scared for you.”

Sephiroth tucked his chin. Closed his eyes. Leaned a little closer. Cloud leaned forward. Took the invitation to daringly press a kiss to his slack lips.

“Promise me,” Cloud whispered. “As soon as we find the others.”

“As soon as we find the others.” Sephiroth murmured in reply. “Until then…”

“I’ll help you stay standing.” Cloud agreed, squeezing the hand even though Sephiroth couldn’t feel it.

“Hey!” Tifa’s voice called. “Hey! Cloud, Sephiroth!”

Cloud whirled. Sephiroth followed a beat later with a soft grunt of effort. Tifa was sprinting towards them, Vincent wandering slowly behind her. She was holding her cell phone high in the air as she sprinted their way, grinning.

“Someone’s on the phone for you!”

\---------

Bonus Illustration:


	25. Sensory Deprivation | Forced Mutism | Blindfolded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth knows there is a storm coming. He has taken steps to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains sleep deprivation carrying over from before, possession, getting tied up, being handled roughly, mentions of character death, psychological torture, and some extremely stressful situations. Please proceed with caution.

“Spike!”

Zack flung himself off of the tree he’d been perched atop of, watching for any movement.

“I have the strangest feeling they might be here.” He heard Genesis drawl, voice dripping with sarcasm behind him. 

He didn’t mind. If anything it just made him happier. Genesis was being sarcastic again, and Angeal laughed despite himself, and Aerith heaved a sigh, and they were okay. They were _okay_. Not perfect, not back the way they were before, but they were okay.

Cloud perked up where he’d been climbing doggedly. Picked up his trudge into a jog, then a head-long sprint. Zack saw his smile. His relief. Took in at a glance the two strangers with them (Vincent and Tifa according to their conversations). Glanced to Sephiroth, worn down, exhausted, ragged as he’d never seen him before. But there, and alive, and—

Gods it was good to see them. After the silence, and Tseng’s message, Zack had thought—

He shook it off. Flung himself at Cloud with a wild laugh. Watched Cloud put the breaks on, eyes going wide.

They tumbled to the ground together, Zack laughing and squeezing his friend, and Cloud spluttering between indignation and amusement.

“Zack, come on!” Cloud whined, wiggling beneath him.

“I missed you so much, bud!” Zack said, pressing his cheek to Cloud’s grinning wildly as he squeezed him.

“Ugh, maybe I should have stayed gone.”

“No,” Zack whined, drawing the word out as he nuzzled against Cloud’s hair.

“Puppy, enough, get off him.” Angeal said, his voice warm with amusement. “Good to have you back, Trooper.”

“Angeal,” Cloud sounded relieved. Zack snickered. Helped pull Cloud up to a sitting position on the grass. “You look good!”

“All in one piece.” Angeal assured, offering him a hand.

“More than can be said for one of you,” Genesis said, his voice tight and crisp. “You look terrible, Sephiroth.”

Zack looked up. Watched Sephiroth blink slowly, dragging his eyes up to meet Genesis’s as if it was a physical effort. Watched the effort it seemed to take him to speak.

“I’m glad you’re well.” Was all he murmured, when he got his words together.

“Hi,” Aerith said sweetly, striding between their missing members to hold a hand out towards the person who must be Tifa. “I’m Aerith!”

“I figured you had to be,” Tifa replied, a little worn looking and dirty, but standing strong. She took Aerith’s hand, and Zack could see the definition on her biceps even from where he was still sitting on the grass. “This is Vincent. He’s quiet, but he’s sweet secretly.”

Zack watched Vincent’s eyes slide to her with an expression of open bewilderment. He very much doubted anyone had called that tall lanky goth anything even remotely close to ‘sweet’ before.

“Come on,” Genesis was murmuring, offering Sephiroth his hand. “We’re just up the hill.”

Sephiroth hesitantly put his prosthetic arm on Genesis’s shoulder. Leaned a little weight on him as they walked. Angeal and Cloud were hugging. Not super tight, and a little awkward, but it was good to see. Zack knew they’d gotten close, after their little stint as roommates. Zack picked himself up, dusting off some of the grass. Wandered over to join Aerith.

“We’ve got dinner ready up at camp,” he said warmly. “And Aerith and I were able to wrangle some supplies for you two in the last town we stopped through. Should make things more comfortable from here!”

“You’ll have to tell us the whole story sometime,” Aerith’s warm eyes lifted to Vincent before returning to Tifa. She was holding her hand with both of her own, and Zack recognized that starry ‘wow’ look in her eyes.

He couldn’t blame her. Those biceps… He silently added ‘crush on Tifa’ to his list of things he and Aerith had in common.

He offered a handshake to Vincent, but wasn’t surprised when the stranger shook his head.

“That’s her head, isn’t it.” Aerith whispered.

Zack looked back to find her holding on even tighter to Tifa’s hand. Her eyes had locked on the bag held in Vincent’s golden claw.

“It is.” Vincent inclined his head slightly, eyes glowing dully, but not like a Soldier’s eyes did.

Aerith took a slow, bracing breath. Zack didn’t know what she saw there, or what she heard. He knew that the world spoke to her in different ways than him. That her senses were… Well, not better or worse, just differently tuned. 

Whatever she saw in that bundle it scared her.

So Zack stepped in.

“Guess it’s a good thing we got a heavy duty duffel for it instead of just getting an extra shopping bag, huh?” Zack said, turning to Aerith with a grin.

It worked. Aerith snorted, splitting into a grin, releasing Tifa’s hand at last to shove his shoulder. Zack let her push sway him. Cast Tifa a wink.

“Come on, puppy.” Angeal called back, one arm still around Cloud, leading him up towards camp.

“Welcome to the crew.” Aerith said warmly.

“Glad we made it,” Tifa said, stepping up beside her with a smile.

Vincent stood awkwardly a moment, then followed a beat behind. It took him and Zack twice as long to get there, because Zack kept slowing down to walk beside Vincent, and Vincent kept slowing down to avoid conversation.

By the time they got to camp, Zack was walking backwards in slow motion, grinning up at their grim-faced new friend. Vincent was pretending that he wasn’t playing along, eyes fixed in the distance. But he was walking forward at an agonizing snail’s pace, always ever so slightly slower than Zack.

————-

Cloud was distracted while they ate. Zack couldn’t blame him. Sephiroth was eating in mechanical motions. Fighting at every moment to keep his eyes open. Forcing himself through half a bowl of stew and a few swigs of water from Angeal’s canteen.

The conversation around the fire was slow and halting, but warm enough. As full of relief as it was of worry.

“You both look good.” Cloud said softly to Genesis and Angeal. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, I burned my copy of Loveless in a fit of pique and I’m annoyed that salt and pepper looks so much more distinguished with salt and pepper hair, but all in all I can’t complain.”

“Yes you can.” Zack said, furrowing his brows. “You do all the time.”

Genesis shrugged eloquently. The wing behind him followed the motion, as natural as breathing. Zack smiled at it. Angeal still struggled with the presence of his wings sometimes, but Genesis had taken to his like a cat to cream. It was hard to imagine him without it these days.

“I’m sad for Banora.” Angeal said softly. “There were people there who shouldn’t have been endangered by our presence. But…”

He glanced to Zack, who nodded firmly.

“But my head is clear enough to recognize we had no way of knowing how drastically Shinra would react. And that it was and is outside of my control. My mother lived through it, and I’m grateful for that. I hope she finds peace knowing she helped us live.”

“Eh.” Said Genesis, shrugging with a slight sneer.

“What’s your story Vi...ncent?” Aerith paused halfway through as Tifa quickly shook her head in warning. But too late by far. Vincent heaved a long, sad sigh.

“It is too heavy for a joyous night.” He murmured, his voice so deep it gave Zack shivers.

Tifa let out a quiet puff of relief.

“Cloud.”

His voice was so small that Zack didn’t recognize it as Sephiroth at first. Cloud did. Set aside his bow. Knelt before him.

“It’s okay.” Cloud was saying, softly. “Ready?”

Sephiroth nodded. Hands limp in his lap. Cloud reached up. Gripped his prosthetic gently by bicep and forearm. Pushed up and twisted. Removed the metal with a soft puff as the lights lining it flickered. Set it aside gently.

Vincent stood from where he’d been hovering near the fire. Walked closer. Placed his non-gauntleted hand briefly on Sephiroth’s shoulder.

“Sephiroth?” Angeal asked, his voice low and worried. Sephiroth’s eyes lifted. They were achingly dull. Distant.

“I wanted to hold off until Cloud had your support.”

Sephiroth’s words were carefully chosen. He took his time speaking. Swallowed. Fought to keep his head up.

“But I must sleep. When I do, I believe…” He trailed off. Blinked even slower. Shifted under Vincent’s patient hands. Zack felt a little lurch of panic in his guts as Vincent started to bind Sephiroth’s legs together at the thighs.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered again, a request, his eyes falling closed, as Vincent guided him forward onto his knees.

“We think the Other’s waiting for a chance to take over.” Cloud explained. “Especially with Jenova’s head close by. So Sephiroth hasn’t slept.”

“But when he does…” Genesis murmured, filling in the gaps.

“Oh.” Zack whispered. “The Other might wake up.”

“And apparently that is very, very bad.” Tifa added, voice concerned, and empathetic eyes on Sephiroth as Vincent calmly and efficiently bound him.

Zack watched as Vincent drew Sephiroth’s arms behind his back. Bound stump and arm together in quick, efficient knots, making use of the spike of metal that served as an anchor for the prosthetic. Bound his ankles together, and his wrists to his ankles.

“Surely there’s something—” Angeal started, but hesitated as Sephiroth himself started shaking his head. Flexed and inhaled deeply as Vincent pulled back.

“Tighter on the arms.” He mumbled, exhausted. “I won’t break. The ropes might.”

“It’s the best we’ve got.” Cloud said with a soft sigh. “But it’s going to be okay. Because what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to fight.” Sephiroth whispered, eyes fixed on Cloud between his slow blinks.

“You’re going to win.” Cloud whispered. Reached out, but didn’t quite touch Sephiroth’s face. Just gently brushed his hair back behind his ear without ever making contact.

“You’d better.” Aerith said softly, standing from her place and rounding the fire. Dropping to her knees by them and giving Sephiroth a tight hug. Sliding straight back into her role as the one Sephiroth could touch safely. “We just got you back.”

“He’ll be fine.” Zack said, shaking his head. “He’s an idiot about Self-preservation, but he’d never let Cloud down. Right, Genesis?”

“Love may make fools, but it makes heroes too.” Genesis sighed to himself.

Sephiroth didn’t hear them. He had fallen asleep between one heartbeat and the next, in the warm touch of Aerith’s hands.

Cloud touched her shoulders gently. Drew her back and away from the exhausted, kneeling, bound man. His hair hung limp and sad around his face. His eyes so darkened with lack of sleep they looked bruised. His cheeks hollow, and pale.

“He’ll be better when he wakes up.” Zack promised Cloud, seeing the grim sorrow on his young face.

Cloud nodded quietly. Aerith turned to hug him instead.

————-

Zack stayed up with Vincent while the others rested. Kept watch over Sephiroth, still kneeling eerily. He should have slumped to the side, unconscious and limp and exhausted. He had not. He had knelt in exactly the same place since he fell asleep. Aside from the slow rush of his breath, he had not moved.

“You guys got close fast.” Zack commented to Vincent as the night dragged on, eager for some sort of conversation. Some distraction from Cloud, curled up with Tifa and Aerith, who had seen him trying to hide tears and had insisted that they needed a human heater against the temperate night as a thinly-veiled excuse to hug him while he slept. Despite their affection, he was still crying silently, tears spilling down his sleeping face. 

“I may be his father.” Vincent said in a voice so expressionless that Zack laughed at first, thinking it was a joke. But Vincent didn’t crack a smile, and Zack was left staring at him in bewilderment.

“How old are you?” Zack asked, absolutely befuddled.

Sephiroth interrupted before Vincent could answer. Took a deep, deep breath. Zack opened his mouth to welcome him back to wakefulness. But Sephiroth didn’t wake.

The wing that sprung from his back did so with such force it almost blew out the fire. Stretched up towards the night sky. So big and so dark that it blotted out the stars above them lie a gap in the sky.

“Huh.” Said Zack. “Ominous.”

“Bring the rope.” Vincent said, and stood matter of factly, walking in smooth motions over to Sephiroth’s stooped, kneeling form, and the massive portent of doom sprouting off his back.

He put his gauntlet against the bone above the joint. Pushed it down with slow, steady force. The wing fought him every inch of the way. Bound it bent like that, then with a neat flick of his gauntleted claws slashed the primary feathers in half, clipping his wing.

“Well,” Said Genesis when he woke to take over from Zack, looking at the bound, clipped wing. “Good thing no one here believes in symbolism.”

————-

Sephiroth woke up before the sun rose. Zack knew it because he heard his voice. Soft and low and… 

“I feel fine now, Angeal. A good night’s rest after a long time awake. Won’t you untie me so I can join you for breakfast?”

Zack blinked his eyes open. Rubbed the sleep out of them. Looked over to Sephiroth. On his knees, bound tightly. Where his left arm should have been, there was something else. Twisting slowly, trying to wriggle out of the bonds. It had grown straight around the rope on his prosthetic’s stump.

“He instructed not to be released until Cloud said it was safe.” Vincent was saying, straightforward and calm.

“Sorry, Sephiroth. I’ll make sure we save some for you.”

“You’d trust this stranger over me?” Zack could have sworn there was something wrong with Sephiroth’s voice. He sounded like he was trying to be upset but couldn't help finding it funny. “I’m quite alright. At least release my wing. It hurts.”

“Did you have to bind it that tight?” Angeal asked Vincent, his expression one of deep concern.

“Yes.” Vincent replied.

“But if it’s hurting him—”

“That’s not Sephiroth.” Cloud said. Sat up from his bedroll. Rose to his feet in a smooth motion, staring in the early dawn light down at the bound figure.

“You’re sure?” Angeal asked.

“Sephiroth would have told you to cut it off.” Cloud said blandly.

Sephiroth _smiled_. A slow, curling, vicious thing. Like a sword being drawn.

“Hello, Cloud.” He purred. “Did you enjoy the show? I know you were watching.”

“Just ignore him.” Cloud said, his voice hard and cold.

“Are you enjoying this?” Sephiroth— no— the Other? The thing wearing Sephiroth’s skin. It purred the words. Shifted in the bonds. Lifted his chin, curling, sensual smile tilting Sephiroth’s bow-shaped lips. “Does it excite you to see me bound?”

“Shut your mouth.” Cloud spat.

“Spike.” Zack said softly. Stood. Went to him. Wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Like you said. He’s just trying to wind us up.”

“I don’t understand.” Tifa said, still picking herself up from bed. She reached down to help Aerith up as well. “It just looks like him.”

“The other _is_ him, my dear.” Genesis said.

“No.” Said Tifa. “Try again.”

Genesis stared at her a moment, then offered. “My apologies, Tifa.”

“Much better.”

“Ooh!” Aerith seemed delighted. Zack split into a grin.

“Aren’t you all just a cheery little family.” Sephiroth chuckled, his smirk turning into a wild grin. Zack felt something in his chest ache. He’d never seen Sephiroth smile like that. Couldn’t remember seeing him grin at all. But there he was, sharp-toothed and beaming, delighted as a child.

_“You’ll be happy.” Genesis had read out of Sephiroth’s journal. “That’s it? You’ll be happy?”_

“He’s going to beat you.” Cloud spat. “Shut up, sit there, and deal with it.”

“It is such a shame.” Sephiroth whispered. “That you all put on such fine disguises to lead him into this. I know what you really are.”

“Ignore him.” Cloud repeated, storming over to the water canteens, pulling one open to take a drink.

“Preening, shallow, _weak_ diva.” Sephiroth whispered, eyes sliding to Genesis. “You started a war for the sake of your pride. Killed countless Soldiers. Civilians. Murdered your parents. Then came crawling to me for help. I did what this one could not. I let you rot.”

Genesis did not make eye contact. He was staring into nothing.

“And you. All your honor and dreams.” He turned his smile to Angeal. “They led you to a monster’s death at the hands of your own student. Oh, how Zack cried when he brought me your identification. How the guilt broke him. How he screamed when I cut him down. He was still wielding your Buster Sword. You were a burden till the day he died.”

“Shut. _Up_.” Cloud hissed, turning wild eyes on the Not Sephiroth.

“You’re not a burden.” Zack said softly, eyes on Angeal. He couldn’t imagine it. Couldn't imagine hurting him.

Except he could. He knew. Angeal had gotten violent, sometimes. If he hadn’t known what was happening… If there had been no chance of a cure… No Aerith, or Genesis, or Gillian...

Sephiroth’s eyes were already sliding to Aerith.

“You never understood why he abandoned you.” He whispered, a laugh in his voice. He died for Cloud, and left you all alone. Sweet little flower girl, spurned by her lover, only for a pale blond replacement to fall into her arms and re-open all those old wounds. I think when I killed you it must have been a mercy.”

“No.” Zack’s eyes snapped back to him, his heart aching in his chest.

“Oh yes.” Sephiroth purred. A single strike from behind. Straight through that silly pink dress she wore. I much preferred it dyed with her blood.”

“Right!” Cloud snapped. Grabbed up a piece of fabric from his supplies. Stormed over to the Other.

“Oh, and you.” Sephiroth purred, eyes tracing Cloud’s movements with an awful hunger. “My beautiful, broken, useless little puppet. You are just the same in this life as the other.”

Cloud didn’t reply. Dropped to one knee by the Other. Slipped the fabric around his neck without touching. Clenched his jaw.

“You are nothing until I change you.” Sephiroth whispered, tilting his head back to smirk over his shoulder at Cloud. “You are nothing at all.”

Cloud said nothing in response. He just jerked the fabric up over the Other’s mouth. Pulled it taut. Stared blankly into his face, waiting.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

The Other hummed in pleasure, eyes narrowing, and obeyed. Cloud yanked the makeshift gag tight. Rough and harsh.

“Cloud,” Zack objected softly. “It’s still him.”

“And he doesn’t want us listening to that shit.” Cloud snapped, standing and moving swiftly away from the Other as he chuckled behind the gag. “He doesn’t want that asshole anywhere near us. Everything we do, everything we say, he’ll use it as ammunition against Sephiroth— _our_ Sephiroth.”

“Then we shouldn’t let him see or hear anything, should we.” Genesis said, his voice surprisingly calm for how hurt he’d looked moments ago.

There was silence for a moment. Angeal frowned to himself.

“I don’t want him to feel betrayed by us.” He murmured. “He obviously has some reason to fear it…”

“Suck it up, Angeal.” Genesis said sharply. “This thing isn’t Sephiroth. He won’t care what we do to it, so long as we don't let it hurt Cloud.”

“He is Sephiroth, though.” Zack said softly. “He’s just a different one.”

“One that smiled while telling you how you killed Angeal, how he murdered Aerith, how he left me to rot.” Genesis said coldly. “Can you honestly imagine our Sephiroth doing that? _Our_ Sephiroth? Who took a sword through the gut because he thought he might hurt Angeal or I otherwise? Who cut off his own arm when it was burning Cloud? Who waited to fall asleep until he was certain there were people to keep Cloud safe from him? No. Whatever happened to that thing, it’s not Sephiroth anymore.”

Zack stared at him. Felt a sudden new swooping respect. Let it filter onto his face in a small smile.

“Aw,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “You like him.”

“Of _course_ I like him, why do people keep getting surprised by that?” Genesis snapped, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I can put together a blindfold.” Aerith offered softly. 

“If you have candles, wax should seal his ears sufficiently.” Vincent said blankly.

“He’s gunna chew through that gag.” Tifa pointed out. “We’ll want to be a little more thorough.”

“And when he wakes up, I’ll make pancakes.” Angeal said softly. “They were always his favorite, even if he never said so.”

—————-

Vincent drew up a schedule to ensure Sephiroth got enough water throughout the day.

“You are unnervingly good at this.” Zack told him.

“I was a Turk once.” Vincent replied, his intonation flat.

“Hah!” Zack slapped him on the back. “Yeah, I can see that!”

The Other laughed at them through the liquid, refusing to swallow. Vincent calmly clamped his hand over his mouth until he had to swallow or drown.

Zack saw Cloud turn away. Put his face in his shaking hands. Aerith went to him. Spoke softly. Drew him away from their small camp.

—————-

Tifa caught the tentacle--There was no other word for the thing on Sephiroth’s arm— worming its way into the knots on the rope. Genesis’s expression tightened, but he drew his sword.

“No.” Cloud said firmly. “No.”

No one had the heart to argue with him. Tifa offered up a small leather bag she’d found in the supplies. Zack had stored smoked meats in it for their trip. Vincent stuffed the tentacle into it, and bound it to the ropes, containing the twisting, writhing flesh.

Later in the day Sephiroth moaned weakly. Twisted in his restraints. Tilted his head as if desperate for relief. Piteous. Zack felt it tear at his heart. He sounded so—

Cloud walked over and poured the rest of his canteen over the bound man’s head, and the Sephiroth had burst into muffled laughter behind the gag.

None of them slept well. The Other had tried to tilt himself into the fire earlier. Vincent had caught him by the back of his neck. Had dragged him away from the fire, the muffled echoing of his laughter.

“Talk about something else.” Genesis encouraged them all. “Anything else.”

Cloud had just shaken his head. Put his face in his hands to hide his tears. Zack wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t know what to say.” Tifa said softly, sounding guilty and sorry.

“Fine.” Genesis said. “Loveless it is.”

“Thought you burned it.” Cloud choked from behind his hands.

“As if I don’t have it memorized.” Genesis scoffed.

“Noooo,” Zack whined, and it rose a soft, choking laugh from Cloud.

“There.” Genesis murmured, his voice uncommonly soft. “That’s the little asshole we like so much.”

“He’ll be okay, Cloud.” Angeal said. “He made it here so you’d be safe. Let us help. Have some dinner.”

“Right.” Cloud whispered. “Thank you.”

“How about I tell a story tonight?” Aerith offered. “Wouldn’t want Loveless to get old for anyone.”

“Too late.” Zack and Cloud chorused, and broke into wet laughter together. Zack rocked with him, laughing, and felt tears well in his eye as Cloud laughed and cried beside him.

“We’re going to talk about that later.” Genesis threatened, but he sounded suspiciously choked-up.

“Should I ask what Loveless is?” Tifa whispered to Aerith.

“Oh no.” Angeal sighed as Genesis’s eyes lit up.

It was almost enough to distract them all from the bound figure just outside the circle of the fire, head turned towards them. From the black duffel bag on the other side of camp from him and its grim cargo. From the fact that even though Sephiroth was blindfolded, somehow he was staring right at it.

—————-

Cloud woke gasping. Zack was beside him, rubbing his back slowly. It wasn’t his turn on watch. Angeal was leaning against a tree nearby, keeping an eye out.

“Bad dreams?” Zack asked softly.

“He’s hurt.” Cloud whispered, wiping his eyes. “He’s hurt.”

“You can see him?”

“Through the other Cloud. Only when I’m sleeping. He’s fighting so hard, Zack, but he’s hurt.”

“Well,” Said Zack after a second. “Think the Other Cloud can help?”

Cloud stared at him, lips parted. He looked ready to say ‘no.’ But he didn’t. His expression turned thoughtful. Then determined. He took a deep breath and curled back up into bed.

“Go get him, buddy.” Zack murmured, rubbing Cloud’s back as he tried to fall back asleep.

——————

“No sleep, puppy?” Angeal asked softly, walking over as the sun rose.

“No.” Zack agreed softly, shaking his head. “Just… wanted to keep watch over him. I know that’s dumb.”

“I don’t think it’s dumb.” Angeal said, looking towards where Sephiroth knelt, shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. “Want to help with breakfast? I know you’re happier with busy hands.”

“Yes please, it’s either that or I’m gunna start doing squats.” Zack joked.

Angeal’s hand was warm and strong and living as he helped him up. Zack didn’t stop at just standing. Stepped forward to hold him tight. Angeal returned the hug. Warm and safe and strong.

“Angeal, I’m so—”

“No. You never did anything wrong, Zack. Whatever might have been didn’t happen. And I know you well enough to know you must have done your best then too.”

Zack sniffled softly. Pressed closer. Angeal didn’t smell like ashes anymore. His skin didn’t crumble under heavy touches. His wings flared behind him. Curled around as if trying to hug Zack too.

“Maybe I was gunna say ‘hungry.’” Zack whispered into his chest. “Wouldn’t you feel silly then.”

Angeal’s chuckle was warm and indulgent. He pulled back, ruffling Zack’s hair.

Zack was still waking the fire up when Cloud gasped and shot up out of his bedroll.

He immediately stood, turning to Sephiroth with fear sinking deep into his stomach. Sephiroth, who was still for a long moment, then toppled slowly to one side, as if only just finding that gravity applied to him. Vincent took a half-step towards him from his position looking over him. He was no match for the speed at which Cloud was at his side.

Zack’s fear turned to painful, desperate hope. He took a step closer. Watched as Cloud’s shaking hands pried the wax stopper from the ear that wasn’t pressed into the ground with his position.

“Hey,” Cloud was whispering. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

A muffled sound from behind the gag. Not a laugh. Sephiroth’s body twisted, then went still again in the bonds. Zack could see him panting for breath even from where he was.

Cloud pulled the fabric from his mouth. Tore the gag in half rather than stop to untie it.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth was gasping through cracked lips, red at the corner from the tight gag. “Cloud. Cloud.”

“Right here,” Cloud whispered, pulling the blindfold off him.

“Spike?” Zack murmured, standing fixed in place with Angeal. He heard Tifa give a soft gasp. Heard Aerith murmur something.

Sephiroth’s eyes fluttered open. Fixed up at Cloud. He didn’t smile. He didn’t purr. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t grin. His lips pulled into a miserable grimace, and Cloud whispered his name. Bent over him. Gathered his head gently in his hands. Lifted it off the ground and into his lap. Pressed soft kisses to his hair. Combed his fingers over his scalp.

“Help me get him untied.” Cloud whispered, looking up to Vincent, though the whole group of them moved forward to assist.

“How can you be sure?” Sephiroth choked, his whole body shaking.

“Trust me.” Cloud whispered, cupping his hand gently on Sephiroth’s cheek.

From how Sephiroth closed his eyes and turned into the touch, Zack was willing to bet that ‘trust’ was the very least of his feelings for Cloud.


	26. Disorientation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth is awake. But at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some body horror involved.

He couldn't seem to focus. Couldn't seem to catch his breath. He was awake, he was fairly sure. It felt like he was awake. Like time was linear. Like his body was real. Like the hands on him were solid, and warm, and safe.

Cloud's voice, and the sawing sound of rope being cut, and a sudden rush as blood flow returned from his cramped legs. Someone was behind him. The sound of more sawing. The vast thing behind him slumped out of its bonds. His wing. Yes. He had that right now. They hadn't cut it off, even though they should have. That and— 

"Talk to me."

Cloud's voice. Sephiroth swallowed. Squinted his eyes open. Cloud was a blurry smudge in a world that didn't love him. In a planet he would always be separate from. In a life he'd chosen anyway.

"Cloud." His voice didn't sound like his own. Fuzzy and strange.

"Well, he's got that one down."

Genesis, speaking from behind him. A hand on the massive abomination of a wing at his back. Brushing over where the ropes had held it still.

"Is he hurt?"

Angeal. Close. Sephiroth forced his eyes to move. Saw him hovering close by Cloud's side. Looking down intently.

"Just out of it, I think." Cloud murmured.

"He has been bound for two days, sightless, voiceless, soundless."

Less familiar. Sephiroth forced his eyes towards that voice. Winced as his back arched to see. Felt someone's hand steady him. Saw the distant splash of tattered grey-brown. Vincent. Right. Vincent and Tifa were here. There were people here in this world. More than him, and him, and Cloud, and Cloud, and— 

"Sephiroth?"

A new blur. In front of him, next to Cloud, brown and sweet. Aerith. Yes. Zack was here too, somewhere.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. Regretted it. Everything swam. Had it ever stopped swimming after Nibelheim? The weight of a head in a bag, staring through fabric at him all day, the thing in his mind, in his blood, in his heart, clawing to be free. Keeping himself caged. Losing to his own future.

"That was dangerous." Sephiroth mumbled, the words slurred and broken, turning his eyes to Cloud. "It was dangerous."

"Shh," Cloud whispered. His hand was warm as he stroked it over Sephiroth's hollow cheek. "Answer Aerith."

He didn't remember what Aerith had said. Took a guess.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, dear, what was it you said Cloud?" Genesis asked. "That he always says that when we've hurt him?"

"Not just you, to be fair." Cloud said, voice a little too strained to be laughing. "He just says that when he's hurt."

"I put together a little nest by the fire." Ah, there was Zack's voice. Too bright, as always. "In case he's shaking cuz he's cold."

"Can't be worse than the ground." Genesis added.

"Angeal's going to pick you up, okay?" Cloud said softly.

"No." Sephiroth mumbled. "I can walk."

Genesis snorted. Zack let loose a laugh that made Sephiroth's ears ring. He grimaced.

"I'm sure you could if you had to." Angeal said indulgently, strong arms looping behind Sephiroth's back. His knees.

"I've got his wing." Genesis murmured, hands beneath the feathered monstrosity.

"Just cut it off." Sephiroth muttered.

"No," Chorused too many voices for him to fully process.

He blacked out when he was lifted.

————-

_“Oh, do keep getting up.” Laughed the Other. “Do you know what they’ve done to you out there? How aware of it are you? Shall I let you up to the surface to see?”_

_Sephiroth withstood it. Said nothing. Awakened in his body to the taste of blood and cloth, the sight of nothing but shadow, the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears and nothing more and—_

_The Other dragged him back down._

_“How long do you think before they decide to put you out of your misery?” The Other asked. “Not that I’ll let them, of course. We’re only staying here because it’s convenient. They’ll protect your broken little body until I can take it for my own.”_

_“They are doing what is right.” Sephiroth said, trying to believe it. He lifted his sword. Charged back in._

_They were not matched, but Sephiroth also was not dead. The Other seemed unwilling to go that far. He just wanted to wear him down. Wanted to make him small. Wanted to cage him in at the foot of his throne, and make his body into a new shrine for Jenova._

_Her red eye shone through even into the dreamscape. He always knew where she was._

_He had never seen red when he was awake, but his dream self did not rely on rods and cones. Her eye was red, and he saw it. Burning through into him. Watching with approval._

_The Other struck, his version of Masamune clashing against Sephiroth’s. Sephiroth pulled back with his metallic arm to punch, but the Other wasn’t so easily hit. He called spikes up from the ground beneath them. Impaled Sephiroth from all sides, sent Masamune clattering out of his hand._

_It didn’t kill him. As the Other laughed and dragged him off the spikes by his lapel, tossing him away, part of Sephiroth wished it had._

————

He rose to consciousness with the feel of a cool, damp cloth on his face. Someone was gently sponging at the raw corners of his mouth, where the gag had cut into flesh while the Other fought against it endlessly. Sephiroth blinked his eyes open. Found not Cloud, but Genesis looking down at him.

It was such a confusing sight that he didn’t even think to object. Just stared up with furrowed brows as Genesis gave him a small smile and went back to work tending the little injury.

“Angeal’s making you something light to eat.” Genesis murmured.

The sky above him was wrong. Dark. Strange. But it was still bright out. Sephiroth blinked up at him till his dazed eyes focused enough to see that it was fabric. Someone’s blanket, turned into a makeshift shelter to guard him from the sun.

“I’m not hungry.” He said. Or tried to say. He wasn’t sure how intelligible it was. His ears were full of a high singing sound, like his mechanical arm’s whining as it ran lower and lower on mako. He glanced down to his left hand side. Looked away again quickly.

“Genesis,” He whispered, but it came out a whine.

“Relax.” Genesis murmured. “Cloud will be back in a second. We all know you want him.”

“Cut it off.” Sephiroth rasped, his voice feeling too thick, too foreign—

“You need to eat, and drink, and recover.” Genesis said, his voice sharp and annoyed. “Stop telling me to chop your appendages off.”

Despite his sharp words, the cloth was cool and soft, brushing gently over Sephiroth’s brow. His hollow cheeks.

Sephiroth blinked heavily. Let out a sigh as Genesis folded the cloth and lay it gently over his eyes. He opened his eyes to the dark, sucked in a breath in panic, but Genesis was already taking it away, shushing him gently. Kept his eyes uncovered after just that one moment.

“Remember when you showed up at four in the morning in my apartment and watched me sleep?” Genesis chuckled into the silence.

“You made me coffee.” Sephiroth replied, letting his eyes unfocus, looking at how the light seeped through the blanket ceiling.

“I should have done more.” Genesis whispered. “I should have done more the whole time. I… Angeal and I both. We’ve needed so much help the past few weeks, Sephiroth.”

His head was throbbing. His stomach clenched. He tried to focus.

“Sick.” He murmured. “You were—”

“I know.” Genesis murmured. “But it was hard. So trust me when I tell you that I understand. It’s hard to be helped.”

Sephiroth grunted. Annoyance more than anything. But he couldn’t be too annoyed while Genesis was setting the cool cloth over his forehead, quieting his throbbing head.

“But believe you me, you are going to get helped, pampered, looked after, and coddled after that display.” Genesis hissed. “And you’re going to like it, or Cloud is going to cry again and I will _never_ forgive you.”

Sephiroth blinked at him. Furrowed his brows in confusion. Genesis met his gaze with a stubborn, almost aggressive blue glare. Then he glanced up away from Sephiroth, towards approaching footsteps. His expression melted into a smile, as if he’d never been threatening Sephiroth.

“Hey,” Genesis said, that same sweet, gentle voice he’d been using before. “He’s awake. I’ll let you take over.”

“Thanks, Genesis.” Cloud said. “I’ve got him.”

Sephiroth relaxed so much at the sight of Cloud that he almost fell asleep again. Only Cloud’s soft ‘Hey. Stay with me.’ kept him awake. He blinked his eyes open. Made himself stay awake.

“Angeal made terrible tea.” Cloud joked softly. “Broth, that is.”

“I remember.” Sephiroth mumbled. Tried to push himself up to sitting. His shoulder screamed, his body seized up, the wing was heavy, his left arm was—

“Easy,” Cloud murmured, moving even closer.

Cloud settled beside him. Hooked a hand behind Sephiroth’s neck and shoulders. Lifted gently, shifting him until he was laying half-propped up on Cloud’s lap.

It felt good.

Cloud lifted the cup of soup to his mouth. Sephiroth drank. Small mouthfuls at a time.

That felt better.

He fell asleep between one mouthful and the next.

———---

_“Let go.” The Other said. “Open yourself. She’ll receive you. Love you. Heal you. For all your faults, we are her son.”_

_Sephiroth dangled by his hair from the Other’s fist. His legs wouldn’t hold him. His hands wouldn’t lift. His left was a sparking ruin. His right felt too heavy, even though it was unharmed. It wasn’t, though. He knew it wasn’t. He had been taken apart, healed back together, stabbed and shattered and—_

_He looked towards his Masamune. Abandoned on the floor. He had to keep fighting. He had to make sure he woke up again. He’d promised._

_“Promised who?” The Other laughed, and Sephiroth didn’t know if he’d been speaking aloud or if the Other could simply hear his thoughts now._

_“Ah,” the Other whispered. “Just a moment. I believe it’s your watering time, and I do like trying to bite the old vampire.”_

_He vanished, and Sephiroth collapsed. Tried to straighten. Tried to stand. To get to his sword. To take the opportunity._

_His arms kept giving out from under him._

_Weak, he cursed at himself. Weak. You told him you’d wake up. You told him you would fight. Be stronger than you are._

_He had been. The Other was stronger than that._

_Despair was a worse wound than any the Other could have given him. Worse still with the red gaze of Jenova piercing through into his mind, watching his weakness, his failure his—_

_“Now,” laughed the Other, reappearing in a flicker at the foot of his throne. “Where were we?”_

_He moved forward in a rush, and Sephiroth braced for pain, but—_

It felt like a thousand years ago. The man in the avalanche uniform reaching for him. Cloud darting in front, breaking his arm, guarding Sephiroth. “Touch him again.”

_The memory sprung fresh to his mind as the Other Cloud jolted forward. Apparently Sephiroth was not the only one who was trying to make a move while the Other was away. Where Sephiroth had failed, the Other Cloud had succeeded. His limp, puppet’s body stood strong between them, and Masamune flashed in his hand as he swung._

_“Not without a fight.” Cloud said in a dual voice. Him and him. Cloud and Cloud. A new body filling the cracking, empty shell, like a suit of armor._

_“My my,” the Other Sephiroth had chuckled. “What a very foolish thing to do.”_

_“Get up, Sephiroth.” Just one Cloud. His face sliding into existence on the back of the Other Cloud’s head. Dreamlike. Impossible. “You can get up one more time.”_

_————_

“Stop.” Sephiroth growled.

“Nope.” Zack replied happily.

“I’m. Fine.”

“Oh, interesting, that is not what anyone else says.” Zack said, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Zack, what are you doing?” Aerith asked.

“Hi Aerith!” Zack said happily. “I’m trying to get Sephiroth to finish his lunch.”

“I am not an infant.”

“If you can't hold the spoon but you’re still hungry, then someone’s going to feed you.” Zack said matter of factly.

“I will end you.” Sephiroth hissed.

“You could do it if you’d use your left arm.” Zack pointed out.

“My left arm is over there.” Sephiroth responded curtly, nodding towards his prosthetic. “ _This_ is _Jenova’s_ arm, and I want nothing to do with it.”

“Wow, sounds hard.” Zack said. “Now say ah!”

“Enough, Zack.” Aerith laughed. “Shoo!”

“Aw, Aeriiiiith!”

“No, Zack! Shoo!”

Zack pouted. Leaned in to ruffle Sephiroth’s hair. Just a little too gentle to be his normal obnoxious affection. He slipped away. 

“Was he being awful?” Aerith asked, sweet as pie, walking over to join him.

“Yes.” Sephiroth muttered, squinting at the horizon from where he was propped up against a small pile of bedding and the sturdy side of a tree.

“Oh, I see!” Aerith said, dropping to sit by Sephiroth’s side and picking up the bowl with its stew. “Trying to make you finish lunch. How troublesome.”

“Indeed.” Sephiroth muttered. “Where’s—”

“Cloud needed to clean up and calm down.” Aerith replied. “So you’re stuck with us. And would you like to know a secret, Sephiroth?”

Sephiroth blinked. Looked suspiciously at her.

“You _are_ going to finish your lunch before Cloud comes back. Now say ah.”

————

_The Other was not easily beaten. Not easily restrained. But Cloud fought with all he was, and Sephiroth found a well of strength he'd neglected till then. A desperation to protect the blond, risking his life because of Sephiroth's weakness._

_Cloud stabbed the Other through his stomach. Slung him with a scream towards Sephiroth. Sephiroth toppled his throne on top of his body. He knew he was alive beneath it. Knew he would claw his way out again. Knew Jenova saw, and seethed, and hated._

_He just turned away and went to Cloud. Staggered and sank. Cloud's face was strange. A nightmare. The broken, fragile puppet, with the young Cloud Sephiroth knew behind it. Within it. Just on the other side._

_“That was very stupid.” He whispered. “He could have destroyed you.”_

_“Sometimes it’s not enough.” Cloud whispered. The one outside. “Caring. Fighting. It’s not always enough if you don’t have help.”_

_“Wake up.” The Cloud inside him begged, and slipped away, leaving the broken Cloud empty._

_“Wake up.” That Cloud whispered too, and slowly crumbled into shards from the damage left by the Other’s blade._

_————-_

“You all care a lot.” Sephiroth whispered.

“Hm?” Angeal asked, looking over from where he was working on whittling. Sephiroth didn’t know when he’d picked up whittling. From the quality of the work, it must have been recently.

“About Cloud. Everyone has been trying to make sure I’m at my best for him.”

“Is that what you think?” Angeal asked, setting aside the wooden… Bear? Fish? Hard to tell.

“I can understand it. He must have been very upset.”

“Hm.” Angeal stared a moment, then carefully shifted closer. Wrapped his arms slowly around Sephiroth, careful not to crush his wing. Sephiroth sucked in a breath. Held very, very still.

“We really let you down, didn’t we.” Angeal murmured. “If you think we’re only scared because of Cloud.”

“What?” Sephiroth whispered.

“If we say things like that, it’s probably because we know you’ll lock up if we tell you the truth.” Angeal murmured, not releasing him. “You don’t like to listen when people worry about you. But you listen when it’s Cloud.”

“I don’t… Understand.” Sephiroth murmured, lifting his arm to try to push Angeal away. He didn’t quite make it through the motion. Ended up just… Putting his hand on Angeal’s shoulder.

“We were so scared for you.” Angeal whispered. “All of us. Even Tifa and Vincent, though they’ve barely met you. Everyone wants to make sure you’re safe. More than anything.”

“I… Oh.” Sephiroth blinked slowly. When he closed his eyes he saw red. Always from where Jenova stared at him. Through fabric, and a duffel bag, and the campfire. “I’m alright.”

“You will be.” Angeal murmured, sitting back slowly. “Until then, just… Let us help. Just for a while. Alright?”

Sephiroth hesitated. Nodded slowly.

“Alright.”

————

“The Other Cloud.” Sephiroth whispered as Cloud curled beside him, settling in for the night accompanied by the sounds of the others still chatting softly by the campfire. Zack was trying to guess Vincent’s favorite color, and dancing around ‘red’ like that was the point of the game. Tifa was wheezing, trying to keep her laughter quiet. Vincent had not made a sound, but he also had not left.

“Hm?” Cloud whispered. Curled a little closer. Slid one of his arms under Sephiroth’s head, like an extra pillow. Curled up closer. Gently steered Sephiroth’s left arm over his waist. Sephiroth allowed it, only because it was still inside a leather bag. He had a feeling… Well. He hoped.

“Did he die?” Sephiroth asked, his heart in his throat, feeling sorrow threaten to choke him.

But Cloud was shaking his head. Smiling softly. Shifting closer to squeeze Sephiroth tightly.

“We’re stronger than that.” He promised in a whisper, and kissed Sephiroth softly.

That night, Sephiroth dreamed.

When he woke up, he untangled himself from Cloud and untied the leather bag, and looked inside. There was nothing but the stump of his arm and dust.

Perhaps Hojo’s hypothesis had been right after all, and his rejection of Jenova had affected his very biology.

But the wing stayed.

He glanced over at where Genesis was asleep on his stomach with Tifa and Aerith both using his wing for a blanket. Sephiroth glanced to the pile of bedding he'd woken up from. He had been so cold yesterday. They’d sacrificed their bedding to help, and Genesis had stepped in to keep them warm. He didn't know much about families. About friendships. He struggled with them. It was unnatural to him. A color he couldn't see.

Except he _could_ see red now. Even if only in his mind.

He supposed a wing would be alright.


	27. Migraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [After a long hiatus...]  
> Tifa suggests that maybe, just maybe, they might want to have a plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [We're back! Life is crazy, updates will be sporadic, but we're going to finish this story!]

"I know I'm new here," Tifa said, scrubbing the tubers Angeal assured them would ‘taste good if handled right,’ whatever that meant. "But what's the plan from here?"

"Hopefully going somewhere with  _ fewer bugs _ ." Genesis hissed, scrubbing furiously at the grubby roots he'd been assigned to. "I swear, ever since the degradation they can't get enough of me."

"Maybe you're just really delicious." Zack said, kicking his feet and being generally useless. He'd done the hunting for the day, so he got to take off from cleaning the catches and the foraged components. He'd come with them down to the riverbank anyway, though apparently only to annoy them.

"Fewer bugs would mean colder." Aerith pointed out, glancing up to Tifa. "And you didn't have a chance to pack any real clothes."

"Thanks again for letting me borrow yours." Tifa said with a smile. "They definitely suit me better than Cloud's did."

"My pleasure!" Aerith was grinning again. Such a sweet grin, but hiding so much mischief... "And new or not, I think it's a good question. Sephiorth's recovering, Genesis and Angeal are in one piece and more lovely than ever—”

"Thank you for noticing." Genesis interjected, tossing his hair, his earring flashing in the golden afternoon light.

"—and we have a head in a duffel bag that wants to murder us." Aerith finished, setting aside her work. She'd cleaned her vegetables twice as fast as Tifa. Three times as fast as Genesis, but that was as much his reluctance as anything. It was like the vegetables wanted to be clean for Aerith. Tifa understood the impulse.

"Shall we bring it up tonight, then?" Tifa asked, glancing up to Aerith for confirmation.

"Yes!" Aerith lifted her right arm, making a muscle.

Tifa laughed and mimicked the motion. Laughed more when Aerith gave up her pose to reach over and squeeze her bicep appreciatively instead.

"Since when did my apprentice turn into the boss around here?" Genesis asked Zack.

"Probably when you kept trying to burn the house down, Angeal couldn’t drag himself out of bed, and the only other option was  _ me _ ." Zack reminded with a sunny smile.

"Ah. Yes, that would do it."

"Oh, shit, wait!" Zack sat up abruptly, eyes wide. “I’ve got it!”

Tifa froze. All eyes turned to him, waiting anxiously to hear what had occurred to him.

"What to do with Jenova?" Aerith asked, sounding bewildered.

"What? No.” Zack waved a hand. “The bugs and Genesis! Remember what Gillian said about your cells copying and overtaking others? Think there's a bunch of mosquitoes quoting Loveless now?"

Genesis stared. Fixedly. Aerith reached over and delicately removed the root vegetable from his hand before he squeezed it into pulp.

"I am reconsidering my stance on killing you." Genesis warned.

"Shh, shh, I hear one now!" Zack said, then shrieked and ran for it as Genesis exploded into motion.

"Huh," Tifa said. "Zack might have gotten away if not for the wing."

"Flying's quite an advantage." Aerith sighed, not even watching. "I'll just finish washing Genesis's share. He's bad at it anyway."

* * *

Sephiroth was doing sit-ups, and it was definitely  _ not _ distracting, because Tifa was a very serious full-grown woman who didn't get distracted by things like shirtless men working out, or their enormous wings splayed out to the side to keep them from getting crushed, or sweat shining on muscles in the dim evening light.

Cloud was too light to hold Sephiroth's feet down— he'd had to strain to help out, and it had slowed Sephiroth down— so he'd traded places with Angeal. Angeal held Sephiroth’s ankles steady, chuckling as Sephiroth shadow-boxed on either side of his face at the peak of each sit-up.

"How many of these do I have to do before you accept that I'm fine?" Sephiroth asked, tilting his head back to look at Cloud without bothering to stop the repetitive motion.

"It's gunna take a lot more than sit-ups." Cloud muttered.

"Wanna do a pull-up contest later?" Tifa offered. "I know your arm's giving you trouble, but you're enhanced and I'm not, so it should even out!"

"Very well." Sephiroth replied, narrowing his eyes at her. "Though I have a feeling you are... What is the term Angeal?"

"Bluffing?" Angeal offered.

"Hustling." Genesis called from where he was theoretically watching the fire to keep their dinner from burning. He appeared to be keeping himself busy with his notebook, which he had been copying Loveless into, word by word.

_ "Yeah, he's got it memorized." Cloud had explained to Tifa with a sigh. _

_ "This is no rote memorization and copy." Genesis had snapped, pointing at Cloud with his pen. "This will be an entirely new translation, based on the original—”  _

_ "Good gods, don't tell me you're going to make me memorize this one too." _

_ "You never even memorized the first one!" _

"I've never hustled anyone in my life." Tifa objected.

"No one?" Aerith asked, blinking huge green eyes from where she was working on stitching a new flower design into one of Zack's eyepatches. "I've hustled plenty of people. At least three of them are right here."

"You didn't hustle me." Zack objected.

"Oh, no, definitely not, you love building wagons for near strangers." Aerith chuckled in response, pulling thread through brown fabric.

"Who's the third one?" Cloud asked, apparently fully aware that he was the second.

Aerith winked, and cast a glance to Genesis, who was ignoring their conversation. And dinner.

"Oh," Zack sat up from where he was lounging. For a moment, Tifa thought the expression on his face was serious. That he was taking it all as seriously as Angeal seemed to, at least for a moment. Then he split into a grin. "I call a squats contest after Tifa beats you, Sephiroth!"

"Unlikely." Sephiroth replied. "No offense, Tifa."

"None taken." Tifa said, relaxing a touch. For a second she'd thought— 

"And didn't you want to talk to everyone before dinner?" Zack added, eye guileless and bright as he looked at Tifa. 

There it was. Anxiety churned in her stomach. These were Soldiers. Shinra runaways important enough to be hunted and she was just— 

"I think Vincent should be here." She said, relief treading through her at the excuse.

Zack just grinned brighter. He pointed upwards. Tifa lifted her eyes slowly. 

Vincent was perched on top of a tree, watching with glowing red eyes. Not unnerving at all. 

Tifa considered reaching for another excuse, but Aerith glanced up from her work and enthusiastically made a muscle at her. Then she nudged Genesis with her foot until the redhead blinked up from his work to turn the strips of meat in the pan before they burned. The fresh sizzle of the searing venison filled the air. Even Sephiroth stopped doing sit-ups, bracing his arms behind himself and flaring his wing as he watched her.

Tifa took a deep breath. Straightened her back.

"We need to talk about what's next." She said, her voice as steady she could make it. "Shinra will still be after us and no offense Sephiroth, but I’ve noticed you looking at the head a  _ lot _ ."

"She looks first." Sephiroth muttered, turning away from Jenova's head.

Vincent fell in a wild tangle of red. Landed with only the heavy sound of his cape's fabric, billowing around him like a banner in the wind.

"Tifa is correct." He said, chin tucked as ever, hiding his mouth as he spoke. "Continuing in idleness will only allow the forces opposing us to grow."

Angeal nodded sagely. Crossed his arms. "Team meeting after dinner, then." He said. "We need to lay out what we know before we make any decisions."

* * *

In essence, what they knew boiled down to ‘we’re in trouble.’

Their list of enemies was long, because Shinra was at the top of it, and on top of Shinra was money. So, so much money. That pool of wealth powering their opposition could turn any number of potential allies into new enemies instead.

Angeal was taking notes in the dirt, using a pointed stick he’d selected earlier. He notated Shinra as three distinct columns. Turks, Troopers, Weapons division. Tifa noticed the lack of ‘Soldiers,’ but she decided not to comment on it. Not yet, anyway.

“At least we don’t have to worry about the space program.” Zack offered, trying to be playful.

Angeal added Avalanche to their list of enemies, just to be thorough. They had to pause to explain that one to Tifa. Sephiroth lifted a hand to thread it through his short hair as they spoke.

Then Hojo got his own line rather than being listed as part of Shinra. Sephiroth wrinkled his nose and looked away from the list. Cloud took the stick and added Jenova.

“Better add the Other too.” Sephiroth muttered. “He will not be gone forever.”

Cloud wrote ‘Other’ without further comment, and Tifa tried not to think about the Sephiroth she’d gotten to know first. The one who was bent under the weight of an impossible burden, dragging step by step doggedly forwards, eyes always fixed on the horizon, Cloud always fixed at his side…

Sephiroth took being your own worst enemy to a new level.

“No progress on figuring out their weakness?” Angeal was asking Sephiroth, who was still averting his eyes.

“None.” Sephiroth replied in the defensive empty tone he always seemed to adopt when discussing it. “Unless you are inclined to kill me. That appears to have been the previous Cloud’s method of Jenovan pest control.”

“Don’t joke about it.” Cloud muttered, hunching up and scooting half an inch closer to Sephiroth, shoving himself under his prosthetic arm to cuddle.

“I got curious and spent some time yesterday meditating.” Zack said out of the blue, crossing his arms and shifting his weight where he stood. “Trying to get in touch with a previous Zack, you know? But if there is one he’s not talkin’. Anyone else here got cool past powers?”

“I would not call it cool.” Sephrioth admonished.

“Ugh...” Genesis sighed. Put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I had the same idea as the puppy, but I tried too. Though I’m certain I gave it a better effort.”

“Uh-huh.” Zack said, grinning indulgently. “Same result though?”

“If some other version of me exists, he is keeping his mouth shut.”

“In other words: It’s unlikely that he exists.” Angeal added. Genesis flung a stick at him out of annoyance. Angeal caught it and tossed it into the fire.

“I think my ghost is here.” Aerith said.

Silence. All eyes turned to her. Tifa took a slow breath at the sight of Aerith’s expression. Her small, tight smile. The way the firelight should have washed the color out of her eyes, and instead only deepened the green.

“So many of the flowers sound like me.” Aerith said with a faint laugh coloring her voice. Like she was trying to find it funny.

“Aerith.” Zack breathed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his side.

“It’s fine.” She said, brightening. “It’s good. Maybe she can help if I talk to her. It’s worth a try, right?”

Tifa risked a glance to Sephiroth. 

_ “A single strike from behind. Straight through that silly pink dress she wore.” _

Sephiroth was sitting stone still. His face was turned away from the fire. His eyes fixed in the distance. Away from them. Away from Jenova. Away from Aerith. Cloud reached over and tangled their fingers together, even as Tifa watched. Squeezed Sephiroth’s hand. His real one. 

Daring, she recognized. She’d seen Cloud’s scar. She’d seen the marks on his hand from Jenova’s hair. Seen Sephiroth’s stump, with its black scars, covered all over with the red-green netting that must have marked Jenova’s touch.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Genesis’s voice. Smaller than usual. More personal. Tifa hadn’t realized how performative his voice usually was. He sounded softer. Almost kind.

“I know it was—” 

“It’s okay.” Aerith said before Genesis could finish. “Really! If it helps, I want to try.”

“We’re missing something.” Sephiroth guessed, eyes still averted.

Angeal took a breath to answer. Aerith stood abruptly from the fireside, swinging her arms, smiling.

“I’m going to borrow Zack, okay?” She was smiling through her words. One of her hands found Angeal’s shoulder. The other Genesis’s cheek.Then she pulled away, humming to herself, and wandered off into the evening.

“Pause on the squats contest.” Zack told Sephiroth, lifting a finger before trotting after Aerith.

For a moment there was silence. Then Angeal spoke.

“She doesn’t like people to see that communing with the planet bothers her.” He said, low and guilty.

Sephiroth turned slowly back towards the fire. Tifa watched him take a breath. Watched him lean just a touch of his weight against Cloud. Tentative. Uncertain. She didn’t know why it hurt to see it. Maybe because she’d thought for a minute… 

Well, it wasn’t every boy in town who called you up to a dramatic meeting at the water tower before going off to war. Of course she’d thought for a while that they’d end up together. But she didn’t think that anymore. She’d traveled with Sephiroth and Cloud for long enough now. Long enough to see how much they cared for each other. How Sephiroth had taken more and more weight until he could carry no more, and Cloud had risen to support him.

He wasn’t the anxious kid she’d known anymore.

No, it was the way  _ Sephiroth _ moved that hurt to watch. Like he was afraid to put any more weight on Cloud. Like he was only just exploring the idea that he could lean at all. That someone might hold him up instead of dropping him.

“The degradation?” Cloud was asking. Bracing Sephiroth like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“She worked hard.” Genesis muttered, arms crossed, scowling at the fire. The grey in his hair shone in the dim light. “She insisted it was nothing. That she was just looking at flowers while everyone else did the hard work.”

“She is not human.”

Tifa jumped to her feet. Whirled. Vincent’s red eyes dug into her from where he was standing, and watching. She’d forgotten he was there at all.

“Well,” Angeal said with a chuckle that sounded too raw. “Guess she can join the club.”

With a dizzy feeling, Tifa cast her eyes around the campfire. She hadn’t put it together, but between the Soldiers, and Aerith’s ancestry, and Vincent’s, uh, demons? She was the only one who was just… human. She took a slow breath. Let herself feel that sweep of fear and uncertainty. Let it pass.

“Well.” Her voice came out clear and steady. “Sounds like Aerith has this next bit handled. You still up for that pull-up contest, Sephiroth?”

“You’re not at all worried?” Genesis drawled with narrowed eyes.

“Why should she be?” Cloud cut in, shaking his head. “Of all of us, Aerith is the one who hasn’t gone off the rails, nearly died, sacrificed a body part, been intentionally kidnapped—”

Angeal outright laughed. Held up a hand.

“We get it, Trooper.” He said. “She can take care of herself. Right, Gen?”

“Ugh, don’t rub it in, you know I hate when Strife is right.” Genesis muttered.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Sephiroth said, rising from Cloud’s side in a smooth, steady motion. “I trust you will give me a challenge, Tifa.”

“That’s the plan,” she said, cocking her head towards the branch she’d picked out earlier.

“Wait,” Angeal said by the fire as Sephiroth followed her to her challenge. “Were you talking about Zack or Sephiroth with the kidnapping and body parts?”

“Both.” Cloud’s said, deeply unimpressed and annoyed. “Our team is fucked up.”

“Language, Strife.” Genesis chuckled. “There’s a lady present.”

“Give me a fucking break.” Tifa muttered, and was rewarded with the rare, quiet sound of Sephiroth chuckling to himself behind her.

* * *

Flowers, Zack thought, looked different in the dark. A faint glow through the gloom as night descended. Pale shadows of themselves. 

“You’re fretting,” Aerith sing-songed before him.

His eye was drawn to her. The pale shadow of herself, with hands clasped behind her back, and her head lifted towards the stars. Her braid was tied with a pink ribbon he’d bought her all those months ago. A replacement for the one she’d mended his eyepatch with. An apology. A promise.

“What makes you think that?” Zack asked, keeping it casual. He wondered what the flower tucked behind his ear would whisper if he could hear it— what the hydrangeas she’d stitched into his new eyepatch would say to her.

“Because I led you away from the campfire and off into a field, and you haven’t made a  _ single _ joke about it.” Aerith laughed, turning to gaze over her shoulder at him with eyes that were nearly hidden in shadow.

“Oh, I thought I wasn’t supposed to joke about ravishing you.” Zack grinned. Closed the distance. Wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Out here in the wilds, with only your bare skin, and the flowers and the, uh…”

“Go on, I’m very romanced.” Aerith said, though she was clearly on the verge of laughing.

“Uhh… Voyeuristic owls?” Zack offered.

There it was. She laughed. Tilted back in his arms, her weight against his chest, laughing. It made the world better, her laugh. He held her close, and grinned against her hair, and tried not to be afraid.

“I’m afraid the owls will have to wait.” She said at last, snaking her arms over his shoulders, drawing him down for a kiss.

“They can keep it in their feathers.” Zack whispered against her lips, and grinned as he felt her lips tighten in a smile.

“What would I do without you?” She sighed, taking a step back. He released her. Smiled for her while she lifted a hand to his face. Cupping the cheek under his eyepatch. Running her fingers over the fabric that had once been part of her cloak.

“You’d be fine.” Zack said, shaking his head. He thought of the Other, and a Zack who died and left her waiting. He took a breath. “But you don’t have to do without me. So what can I do?”

Aerith’s fingers slid back into his hair. Drew him down into a softer kiss.

“Stay with me.” She whispered.

“Easy.”

The night wasn’t as cold as some. Zack pulled his cape off and lay it down for her. Plunked down to sit at one side. Watched her settle in. It wasn’t the first time. It had been harder before. Her communion with the flowers had to come between Genesis’s vicious rages. Between Angeal’s self-destructive moods wings. Between the fire and tears.

Now no one would start screaming. No one would call him away. He didn’t have to live in that state of constant terror that he wouldn’t get there in time next time. That Angeal would…

He pushed it down again. It was over. They were safe. Thanks to her.

Aerith lay on his cape with a sigh. Put her head in his lap, heavy and warm. He stroked her soft brown hair, and she laughed at him. Reached back to untie her braid so that he wouldn’t just be tugging on her scalp the whole time, making a tangled mess.

She held her so-called useless materia in one hand, and with the other she reached out to the flowers. Rested her fingertips in the dirt.

“Tell them I say hi.” Zack whispered, rubbing his fingers along the back of her scalp.

“They know that, silly.” Her voice was already distant. “She knows that.”

She didn’t speak again. 

Zack fought to keep himself concentrated on stroking her hair. On being there. And, most importantly, on  _ not _ talking to her. 

It was hard to do. Talking to Aerith was his favorite hobby. He looked at the stars, and wondered what constellations she had learned in her last star-gazing session with Genesis. He looked at the flowers and tried to remember their names without having to ask her. He buried his fingers in her hair, and rubbed the back of her skull, and worried.

_ “Don’t bother them with it.” Aerith had whispered, hiding in his arms behind Gillian’s house. Her eyes had been clenched shut and her fingers shook where they were anchored in his shirt. “They already feel bad enough about this.” _

_ “But it hurts you.” He’d murmured, holding her close. _

_ “I’ll be fine. If we stop, they might not be. I can do this, Zack. I need you to trust I’m strong enough.” _

He did. But he also saw the toll it took on her. More than the headaches, more than the shaking hands. He saw the way the weight of otherness threatened to crush her. The way the very idea of a destiny frightened her.

He saw how strong she’d made herself to carry the weights they all kept putting on her.

By the time she opened her eyes again, the sun was rising. New, and golden, and hopeful. It brushed over her face. Turned her into a bronze statue of a martyr. Zack cupped her cheek to guard her from the light. He wouldn’t let himself see her as anything but the real, vulnerable, brave, flesh-and-blood woman he loved.

She blinked tears out of her eyes and lifted her hand. Her battle-calloused fingertip touched his cheek. Drew an X just above his jaw, as if she were tracing something.

He turned to kiss her fingers when she was done.

“I know what to do.” She told him, and her voice was steady and clear, even as tears streamed down her cheeks.

* * *

Aerith held out through sharing the plan with the others. Smiled with confidence as she spoke. Breathed deep and slow, meeting their eyes as she answered their questions. Zack saw the work behind her brightness. He saw the care and effort she had poured into growing that smile for all of them.

Zack stepped backwards out of the huddle. Slipped away while they were still talking. While they were asking question after question. While Aerith tried to answer.

He saw and loved her care and effort. But he’d been with her long enough to recognize a drooping flower when he saw one.

He didn’t have a mystical connection with a past (future?) self. Even if he had, it seemed the most his past life had done was kill one friend, and save another. He hadn’t been important the way they were important. Sephiroth. Cloud. 

Aerith.

He wasn’t about to let that stop him. What had that life been but unkind? All of them were doing something different now. Zack didn’t have to be cosmically important for what they were trying. He didn’t have to be perfect. He just had to do his best.

Zack stepped up to the river's edge. He put his hands on his hips and laughing softly at himself, staring down at the water.

“Planning would have been good though.” He muttered to himself. “You didn’t even bring anything along. Ah well.”

So what if he didn’t have a grand destiny? He had his friends who he loved, his girlfriend who he loved, and he had his shirt. That would do, right?

He took his mostly-clean shirt off, and shoved it into the cool river water.

* * *

“And once we’re there, you’ll just… Know what to do?” Genesis asked, arms crossed.

“I can only hope so.” Aerith’s voice was clear and bright. 

Sephiroth kept his eyes carefully averted. From her. From the head’s red stare. From the glaring light of the sun, still making his head throb even after so long recovering from his brief confinement.

“And this city was North?” Angeal was asking.

“I think that’s right.” Aerith nodded. “It was vague though. There was a strange city, covered in light, above a desert. It shone. Then a town on the edge of the ocean, full of people.”

“Gold Saucer?” Tifa guessed, brows furrowed. “That’s North from here.”

“Then Costa Del Sol maybe.” Angeal suggested, his wings folding and unfolding against his back as he considered. They moved more now than they had once. Sephiroth’s own twitched, but he repressed it. Not yet. He would accept that it was there, but… Not yet.

“And you’re sure—” Genesis started, but Cloud stepped in over him, lifting a hand.

“Aerith says she can stop Jenova, I believe her.” He insisted. “And besides, it’s the best bet we have. We’d be better served figuring out logistics rather… Than…”

He trailed off. Then, quietly, muttered ‘huh’ to himself.

Sephiroth couldn’t help it. He glanced up. Saw Cloud looking not at Aerith, not at—  _ so red, staring, she wants, she wants, she needs, he is failing—  _ Her, but off towards the river. Sephiroth followed his gaze.

Zack wandered towards them, shirtless and sauntering, glistening and damp, carrying his wet shirt over his shoulder and a handful of flowers between his fingers. Sephiroth let his gaze dip. Just a bit. Yes. Zack definitely had not been slacking off in the time they were separated.

“Uh,” Cloud said articulately, implying to Sephiroth that he may have noticed the same thing.

“Oh, hey, done talking?” Zack asked, cheerful and relaxed as ever, as if they had not been trying to find a solution to a world-ending nightmare.

“Not in the slightest.” Genesis huffed, scowling tightly. Disapproval? Maybe. Sephiroth couldn’t be certain these days. 

_ Is that what you think? Angeal had asked, and then he had said ‘we were all so scared’ and now Sephiroth didn’t know what to think anymore. _

“Did you get bored and wander off?” Angeal asked, ready as always to scold and indulge his puppy.

Zack just smiled at him and went to Aerith. He tucked the flowers behind her ear. A sweet little bundle of white wildflowers that had looked lacking in his fingers, but perfect in her hair.

“Here,” he said, offering her the wet shirt, “I know your head hurts.”

There was silence for a moment. Aerith looked at the wet shirt with parted lips. Sephiroth made himself look at her. Drew in a breath as he realized her eyes were unfocused. That her hands were shaking. He hadn’t been looking…

“Zack,” she said, even as she lifted her hands to accept the dripping, cool cloth. “I’m okay.”

“It’s okay if you want to push yourself.” Zack said, setting the cloth into her waiting hands “But that other you… She’s not you either. Just like her Zack isn’t me, and her Cloud and Sephiroth aren’t ours. Right?”

“Oh, good, we’re chopped liver again.” Genesis muttered to Angeal.

Angeal patted his shoulder, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was watching Aerith.

“You’ve pushed so hard for us.” Angeal said, his voice that same low, comforting rumble he used when he was trying to get through to Sephrioth. “It’s okay to take a step back when you need to, Aerith.”

“There is something you fear.”

Tifa yelped. Sephiroth couldn’t blame her. Even he’d halfway forgotten that Vincent was in the trees, watching them.

Aerith just slowly lifted the shirt. Pressed her face to it. She took a slow breath, expanding her ribs as she hunched into the shirt. As her fingers tightened in it.

“It’s okay.” Cloud said softly after a second of silence. “You know that, right? We’re all… All of us are scared, Aerith.”

“You don’t understand.” Aerith’s voice was muffled by how tightly she was pressing the shirt to her face. “You don’t understand.”

“Tell us, then.” Tifa urged, stepping forward. Not just closer, but right up to Aerith. Folding her in a strong, safe hug. How quickly they had bonded, Sephiroth thought with some small tinge of jealousy. How easy it was for them.

“You don’t have to suffer alone.” Tifa whispered, even as Aerith’s shoulders started to shake.

“I don’t want this.”

It was like a confession. Sephiroth knew the sound of it. The feel of it. He’d felt it, once. Admitting to the others what he’d done. Admitting to Cloud…

“I don’t want to be an ancient.” Aerith’s voice was quivering. Breaking. “I thought I wanted to hear the flowers, but they—”

Zack shifted forward when she broke off. Wrapped her and Tifa both in a hug as well. No hesitance. Even as the wet shirt dripped down Tifa’s shoulder. Onto Zack’s bare arm.

“No need to stop.” Genesis offered after a moment. “The more information we all have, the better. Don’t you think?”

“They hate him so much.” Aerith whispered, as if Genesis had compelled it from her. “Everything I try to learn, they want me to hurt him. Everything I could do, they want him dead. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, and I’m not— I’m just a flower girl! I try to tell them they’re wrong but they’re so—”

Ah, Sephiroth thought, feeling a familiar dread slide through him. Of course. Of course…

Cloud reached out. Gripped Sephiroth’s bicep. Strong, his hold seemed to say. Be strong. 

_ Or maybe _ , a fragile new part of Sephiroth thought, thinking of a man pushing between him and danger,  _ maybe he is saying ‘I’m here.’ _

“Okay.” Zack said.

Sephiroth blinked. Felt the whole camp blink. Zack was smiling, but his eye was closed, cheek nuzzled into the top of Aerith’s head.

“Okay?” Genesis asked, acid toned. “The planet wants her to kill Sephiroth and—”

“And that’s fine.” Zack said with a shrug. “Yeah. Who cares? Sephiroth’s ghost wants to kill all of us. Big deal. He’s got it under control because he’s badass.”

Sephiroth quickly glanced away, feeling a sudden heat come over his cheeks.

“And Aerith’s ghosts want us to kill Sephiroth, but big deal. She’s got it under control because she’s a badass too. Right, babe?”

There was a sound like a sob. Tifa tightened her hold. Aerith shook. Another sob-like sound, then she was lifting her head from the wet shirt, and she was  _ laughing _ . Laughing like it hurt.

“What?” Zack asked, though he was grinning. Playful. Teasing. Brightening everything, like he always somehow did. “It’s true! So you’ve got some murder ghosts whispering in your ear. You have good company! You guys can be headache-murder-ghost twinsies!”

“Twinsies.” Sephiroth repeated in numb shock, but Aerith only laughed louder.

“You are, right?” Zack lifted that sparkling eye to him.

“It’s hardly the same.” Sephiroth, even as Cloud’s hand squeezed on his bicep—  _ I’m here, I’m here—  _

But Aerith had never seemed to care about Sephiroth’s monstrosity. Even now. She pushed gently away from the others. She took two steps closer to him, looking up at him out of her unfocused eyes. He didn’t know what she saw on his face, but she didn’t stop smiling. She laughed once more to herself, then flung herself into his arms. 

He had no choice but to catch her. To keep her from falling, of course. Not because she was holding him, and it felt… 

“Twinsies.” She whispered. “We’ll handle it, right?” 

Sephiroth held her carefully. She was fragile, and he was dangerous, and he wanted to shake her. Tell her she was a fool. He wanted to tell her her planet was right. He would always be a danger. But…

“Right.” He whispered instead, closing his eyes against the too-bright world.

He heard Genesis huff, and Angeal’s chuckle. Heard Zack sigh, pleased and easy. Vincent shifted his stance nearby, a soft rustle of cloth. 

Cloud’s thumb rubbed over Sephiroth’s arm in quiet affection. Aerith squeezed him tighter.

Sephiroth was learning, slowly, to hope.


	28. Extreme Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be smooth sailing. They're well equipped, they know where they're going, and nothing should slow them down. Not even a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still going to make this happen!

Cloud wasn’t sorry to leave their campsite behind. He had done his best to maintain his composure. To be calm, and strong, and supportive. He’d done a pretty good job, as far as he could tell. People stayed focused on supporting Sephiroth instead of fretting over him.

But he never wanted to see those trees again, or the river he’d hidden his tears in, or the rough collection of logs and rocks that had made up their little camp. He didn’t ever want to see that corner of the world where he’d almost lost Sephiroth again. The churned earth where a bound figure had fought against drinking and laughed.

It felt good to be moving again. To put distance between them and that nightmare. It felt good for Sephiroth to be walking at his side, casting annoyed glances back at his wing. Felt good knowing that he’d woken up that morning, and yanked off his metal arm still half-asleep and found… Nothing. Just the stump of his arm, and the connective metal driven into his bones.

Cloud had seen the look on his face. The sheer, broken relief as he slotted his prosthetic back into place.

Never again, Cloud promised himself, eyes fixed on the horizon. I’ll never let it get that close again.

“Penny for your thoughts, Trooper.” Angeal said beside him, standing to Cloud’s right so his wings wouldn’t get in the way.

‘Get in the way’ was a harsh way to put it. The wings had a habit of wrapping around whoever was standing close enough. Like they were trying to pull them closer. Zack often stepped in too close on purpose for a wing hug.

“Just glad to have a plan, sir.” Cloud replied.

“You do both know that we’ve definitely been fired, right?” Genesis asked, gazing archly at them.

“Yes sir.” Said Cloud blankly, and smirked when Genesis threw his hands in the air.

Sephiroth chuckled beside him, Aerith’s arm linked through his right arm as they walked together. Despite Sephiroth’s awkward objections, Aerith had not given up her ‘twin.’ Zack was walking arm in arm with Tifa behind them, the two of them silently mocking their friends, copying their gestures and posture from behind. Cloud saw Zack tilting his chin upwards and loftily arching his brows behind Sephiroth, and had to jerk his eyes back forward again to keep from laughing.

“Looks like we’re walking towards a storm.” Tifa commented, as if she wasn’t imitating Aerith’s little skipping steps, which were partly for fun and partly to keep up with Sephiroth’s long stride. 

“Can’t exactly walk around it.” Aerith said. “And we’ve barely started walking. It won’t be the first time we’ve walked through the rain. You’ll be—”

She glanced back to Tifa. Her words spluttered out in a laugh as Tifa quickly dropped the hand that had been holding her hair back in a fake ponytail while she pretended to mouth along with Aerith. Zack broke character to laugh. Sephiroth glanced back more in confusion than anything else.

“You’ll be?” Sephiroth prompted when Aerith showed no signs of continuing, wheezing in laughter and supporting herself on Sephiroth’s arm.

“Cloud, I think I’d better give you Sephiroth back so I can keep an eye on Zack.” Aerith laughed, holding one hand out to Cloud.

Cloud let her grab him and tow him closer. Let her hook his arm with Sephiroth’s and slide back, leaving Cloud in her space.

“Hi,” Cloud muttered, leaning closer to Sephiroth.

“Hi.” Sephiroth replied, strong and stable at Cloud’s side.

It was still good. It was still good to have him upright. To not worry about him collapsing. Breaking. Falling.

Cloud was still worried, of course, but it was good to have reminders that things were better now.

“You’ll be surprised how warm the Ex-Soldiers are.” Aerith was saying behind them, har arm linked through Cloud’s other. “If you hide under Angeal’s wing and I hide under Genesis’s, we’ll be fine.”

“Still no fair that I don’t have one.” Zack complained with a sigh.

“Puppy, we talked about this.” Angeal said, shaking his head. “It’s good you don’t.”

“And with your limited capability for introspection it’s likely you never will.” Genesis added, gesturing easily with one hand while his wing flared on the other side.

“Showoff.” Zack accused.

“We may wish to seek shelter nonetheless.”

“ _Son_ of a _bitch!”_ Tifa swore. She’d either forgotten Vincent was there again or he’d snuck up on her on purpose. Cloud was starting to suspect he had a particularly strange sense of humor.

“We’ll be fine, Vincent.” Aerith promised. “Tifa and I are stronger than we look!”

“And yet.” Vincent said, but he said no more than that.

Cloud glanced back. Found Vincent’s red eyes fixed on him. He turned back forward, frowning to himself.

An hour later they all drew up the hoods on their cloaks— patched and repaired through the many miles they’d travelled since buying them in Midgar— as they walked into the rain. Tifa didn’t have one, but Zack had passed his over to her.

“I may not have a wing, but I can give you a coat!” He’d said, beaming in pride at having been useful. “Besides, I’ve got all the sunshine I need!” He tapped his eyepatch. He was wearing his favorite that day. The first one Aerith had made for him, when she was still new to stitching little embroidery designs into the fabric. It had a rough, simple sun stitched into it.

Even Genesis’s cloak had a piece cut out from offering it up for a new eyepatch. Cloud still remembered the day they’d realized how hard he was trying. How much it had impacted him. The day the first one was eaten through by acid, and how Zack had shrunk away, hand covering the old injury. How hesitant he’d been to let any of them see him without it. How genuinely upset he’d looked as he tugged Aerith away.

“What’s wrong with him?” Genesis had asked with a scoff, a hand on his hip.

“It’s not easy.” Sephiroth had replied, startling them all. He rarely volunteered information, especially about personal quandaries.

“His eyepatch?” Angeal had asked, turning towards them from where he’d been looking after the others.

“Accepting that you are not what you were.” Sephiroth had said instead, lifting his own metal arm to look at the soft mako glow beneath his torn glove.

Zack had returned calmer, but sheepish. Aerith was scolding him. There were marks on his face where his eyepatch had been. Raw skin. He hadn’t taken it off since they’d left Shinra.

Now he had six eyepatches to swap between. One from each of their cloaks. And every once in a while, he even took it off. Usually not until it was dark. Cloud knew it was partially because of him. That Zack didn’t want to hurt him. He needed to talk to him about it sometime. To tell him that he understood. That he was still upset, of course, because Zack had gotten hurt for him, but that it was okay. That he wasn’t going to freak out.

He would do it just as soon as he was sure it was true.

“It sort of feels nice,” Aerith commented through the rain. “Don’t you think, Vincent?”

The rain merely washes away the evidence of sins.” Vincent replied grimly. “It does not remove them.”

“Oh goddess.” Aerith muttered, wiping a hand down her face.

“Maybe I should ask him for help spicing up my loveless translation.” Genesis murmured to himself, his wing arched over Aerith’s head to guard her from some of the rain.

“Please no.” Cloud groaned.

There was laughter.

The rain got worse.

Cloud took shelter under Sephiroth’s wing. It was there, after all, and Zack was too busy jumping in every puddle to take advantage of it. Tifa was hiding under Angeal’s primary wing, while his secondary one hugged her. (Much to Angeal’s embarrassment and annoyance. He’d apologized five times in the past ten minutes.)

Aerith was more than comfortable cuddling up under Genesis’s, chatting about magic with her mentor over the roaring of the rain. He’d passed her an orb of fire materia, and she was using it to keep her hands warm.

Sephiroth walked steadily at Cloud’s side, dripping wet and not appearing to mind in the slightest. His short silver hair stuck to his cheeks and forehead, already longer than it had been when they left for Nibelheim.

“Gen’s going to have to give you another haircut.” Cloud commented, reaching up to gently slide a dripping strand back into the main slicked-back bunch of hair. “It’s starting to get in your eyes.”

“I suppose I would survive a haircut.” Sephiroth said, as if the last time Genesis had fixed his hair hadn’t left him so content and relaxed that he’d been nearly asleep.

“I suppose.” Cloud snorted. “Let me go touch base with Zack, alright?”

“Don’t let him shake off on you.” Sephiroth drawled, almost playful. If being sopping wet bothered him, it appeared that his new-found confidence in their friend group was slowly sinking through him.

“Angeal said he was worried about me.” He’d whispered the night before, for Cloud’s ears only as they curled together.

“Of course,” Cloud had whispered back, sliding his fingers over Sephiroth’s hollow cheek. He knew he was eating more. Was recovering now that he didn’t cut his arm off again every morning. Was getting bullied into seconds by Angeal if nothing else.

“Everyone was,” Cloud had added when Sephiroth’s eyes remained averted. “They were all so, so worried.”

“That I would hurt them?”

“No.” Cloud had shaken his head. Shifted closer. Pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “That we lost you.”

Sephiroth’s eyes had met his finally. Then had fallen closed slowly. He’d shifted till his forehead could rest against Cloud’s. They were still revelling in it. Feeling safe enough to touch...

A distant rumble made Cloud freeze as he stepped away from Sephiroth’s side. He took a slow breath. Blinked back the strange feeling in the back of his throat. LIke he’d tasted something metallic.

“You doing alright?” He made himself ask, falling in beside Zack.

Zack was outright steaming, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet to keep his blood flow and body heat up.

“Oh, yeah, I’m from _Gongaga_ , bud!” Zack said with a warm grin. “We eat rain like this for breakfast! It does this for, like, a solid month out of the year!”

“Ugh!” Cloud replied with a grimace.

“What, no terrible weather in Nibelheim?”

“Not _that_ terrible.” Cloud objected. “Usually we just got a couple snowstorms that buried the town a year. No big deal.”

“Ugh!” Zack replied, wrinkling his nose. “Sounds—”

There was a terrible, booming crash. A flash of too-bright— a— the ground— 

_He can’t—_

“Cloud?” 

There is a terrible crash

_And_

_He is—_

_His feet lashed out, kicking against the hollow door with a desperate crashing sound. He can’t breathe, he can’t— the leather is so— he can’t breathe— please—_

“Cloud, bud, hey—”

_There is a terrible_

_Crash and he_

_Is pounding against the inside of the_

_Tank and he_

_Cannot breathe, you do not really breathe in the mako, you only don’t die_

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, he just—”

Arms around him. Someone familiar. He knows that hand, cold and strong, it reached for him—

_There is a crash and it is himself breaking it is pieces falling off him, it is a body breaking under the weight under the strain under—_

“Cloud.”

Someone is yelling. The cold hand is yanked away. He almost— then someone is lifting him. Gathering him up. Curling around him. He knows that smell. He knows that heat. He knows that body. His hand latches onto the fabric. He cannot breathe. He presses his face into the shirt.

_There is a crash, and it is a hand falling to the floor and his shoulder is burning and—_

_There is a crash and he is watching them violently drag Zack away and—_

_A crash and—_

_He cannot breathe he—_

_His mother’s voice, calling_

_And gunfire—_

_He is losing his mind, he is—_

_There is a crash and Sephiroth is—_

_He is losing Sephiroth, he—_

_He has to be— He’s supposed to be—_

“It’s alright.” A voice is whispering. He knows that voice. “It’s alright. You have been so, so strong.”

There is a crash. Cloud pressed close to the one holding him, and knew he was screaming.

* * *

“Cloud?”

There is a note in Zack’s voice that makes him turn back at once. Makes him forget everything about leading a group and blazing the way and standing tall against the storm.

Cloud has stopped dead in his tracks. The color has drained from his face. He is only staring.

“Cloud, bud, hey—” Zack says, taking a step back towards him.

Sephiroth moves. Walks closer. There is another lightning strike. Close. Crashing. Terrible.

Cloud flinches away from it violently. Drops to his knees in the mud. He is shaking. He is not breathing right.

Zack moves aside for Sephiroth without a word.

Sephiroth sets his metal hand gently on Cloud’s shoulder before sliding it sound his back. Touching his hair gently with his real one.

Cloud drags in a breath. Blinks just once.

The lightning crashes again, closeby, screaming, and Cloud locks up once more. Wide eyed and terrified, eyes fixed on nothing, his whole body—

“Stop!” Genesis snaps. Storms over. Sephiroth half-straightens in alarm as Genesis grabs him. But he is only grabbing his metal arm in one hand, and Sephiroth’s stump in the other, and he gives it a decisive twist and—

Sephiroth did not realize Genesis even knew how to remove it, but he has detached it neatly. He’s dragging it out of Sephiroth’s wet sleeve.

“You’re like a fucking lightning rod like that!” Genesis says, frustration masking something else. Something more. 

Sephiroth doesn’t understand it. Just watches Genesis fling his metal arm to the side, far from their camp. Then he steps back, and Sephiroth can focus again. On Cloud. Cloud, shaking in the mud. That won’t do.

Sephiroth crouches. Wraps his arm around Cloud. Scoops him up against his chest. He can feel Cloud’s heart thundering. He can hear the sharp, gasping breaths he’s dragging in. Cloud’s hand tangles in his shirt. His face presses against his chest.

Lightning strikes, and it’s like it struck Cloud directly the way he jerks. The way his body tightens and his breath stalls and— 

Sephiroth has seen him break before. Down in the labs. He’s seen the way it fractures him. The way he strains so hard to keep himself together… 

He remembers. Cloud, strangled nearly to death so recently prior, throwing himself at the mercy of Avalanche to provide a distraction for Sephiroth’s rescue. Cloud, angry and frustrated and afraid after his injury. Cloud, fighting daily to stay himself down in the labs, greeting him day after day, holding his metal hand and speaking to him kindly, despite his failings. Cloud standing up to Genesis, Angeal, and Zack all in Sephiroth’s defense, despite having learned what he’d done. Despite how it must have felt. 

He remembers Cloud, with the head of Jenova burning his hand, gritting his teeth and plowing forward. Holding Sephiroth up as they walked. Tying him down when he needed to sleep. Releasing him when he was free. Shouldering everything without complaint. Carrying Sephiroth. Carrying so much…

“It’s alright,” Sephiroth soothes, wrapping Cloud as close as he could, curving his wing over to guard him from the rain and the flashing light. “It’s alright. You have been so, so strong.”

Cloud is shaking. Sephiroth knows it isn’t from the cold. He presses closer anyway. Closes his eyes against the storm and the rain. Thinks only of Cloud. Cloud, his breath hot against Sephiroth’s chest where he clings and shakes. Cloud, who has been through so much in so little time, and spoken not a word of complaint. 

Or, no, it wasn’t that he never did. He complained. A lot. It was a joke to him. He never expected them to listen. He whined about Genesis’s Loveless quoting, but he’d confessed to Sephiroth on their snowy trek that he liked it. He groaned about Zack’s constant bear-hugs and hair-ruffling, but he sought them out as much as they were inflicted on him. He huffed about Angeal’s mothering, but always took the advice he was offered. He grumbled constantly about Aerith trying to treat him like a little brother, which had only worsened since she declared herself Sephiroth’s twin.

And with Sephiroth he was as often bristly and complaining as he was warm and adoring. It was just that his complaints, his pain, they were never _real._ They threw everyone off his scent. Drew their eyes away from his injuries until…

Lightning again. Cloud screams against his chest. Sharp and terrified. Sephiroth hunches over him. Squeezes him just a touch tighter. Hard muscle under 

Until he couldn’t hide it anymore.

“Should we—” Zack said slowly from close by.

“Let them be, pup. Sephiroth’s got him.”

“Is he okay?” Tifa’s voice. Afraid, concerned. She was Cloud’s friend before, Sephiroth remembers.

“No.” Genesis sighs, closeby and grim-sounding. “But he’d like to make sure everyone forgets that as often as possible.”

“Vincent?” Aerith now, aware of his… Aware of Vincent in ways the others were still learning to be.

“I feel him like an absence.” She had said to Sephiroth in confidence once, when he had asked. “But not an unpleasant one. And he’s clearly not absent at all. I’ll just be a little harder to surprise than poor Tifa is!”

“Need something?” Zack now, friendly and worried about their new companion.

“No.” Vincent replied calmly. “But we may have something that would muffle the sound. Or at least provide them some shelter from the rain.”

“Tch.” Genesis scoffed, and for a moment Sephiroth thought he was angry. Then he was saying “The wax seems like overkill, but perhaps a least a blanket.”

“Tifa, let’s put up a shelter.” Aerith suggested. “At least a little one. It might help to be out of the rain.”

“Right!” Tifa agreed.

“They love you.” Sephiroth murmured into Cloud’s hair, even as Cloud shook against him.

He had a moment of sweeping dejavu. Realized abruptly why he understood so deeply, when he so often struggled with knowing Cloud’s mind.

They were so, so very alike. How many times had Sephiroth smothered his worries? His complaints? His discomfort? More than he could count. More, and more, and more, until it had broken him. Left him vulnerable. In some worlds, that break, that vulnerability was the death of them all.

He resolved to remind Cloud of that. Not in those words. Just… That Cloud had worked very, very hard to get Sephiroth to open up to him. And that now it was Sephiroth’s turn to return that favor.

“We love you.” Sephiroth amended softly, and curled up around Cloud, pulling his wing in as tight as he could to let Tifa, Aerith, Zack and Angeal set up a small lean-to over them. Genesis stooped inside. Carefully draped the only slightly-damp blanket over Cloud completely, leaving him hidden from the world between the warm, muffling fabric and Sephiroth’s chest.

Vincent stayed a ways off, glaring into the distance, but their friends stayed close by. Murmuring to one another about what to do next. 

“We could try drowning it out.” Zack offered a few minutes later, after another crash left Cloud sobbing into Sephiroth’s shirt, though his shaking had slowed.

“The thunder?” Tifa asked incredulously. “How?”

“Well,” Zack said, drawing the word out. “I do know this old Soldier marching song.”

“No.” Said Genesis.

“Yes!” Aerith cried.

Sephiroth let out a slow breath, and kept his eyes closed and his attention focused on Cloud.

Partially in the hopes of tuning out Zack’s boisterous refrain of the infamous Soldier marching tune ‘Fight for Honor, Fight for Glory, Oopsie We’re All Gay.’ And his gleeful informing of Angeal and Genesis that the ‘oopsie’ lyric was actually a placeholder for when one of the trinity was on the mission, and that when it was just seconds and thirds it usually concluded ‘Sephiroth,’ ‘Genesis,’ or ‘Angeal’ having ‘turned us gay.’

“Stupid.” Cloud whispered under the blanket when Zack’s diatribe and Genesis’s ensuing temper tantrum had faded.

Sephiroth only then realized that it really had helped mask the thunder as the storm slowly rolled on.

“Rest.” Sephiroth urged gently,pressing his cheek to Cloud’s head beneath the blanket. “I have you.”

“Yeah.” Cloud breathed, pressing closer, unaware beneath the blankets of how all the others had looked at the sound of his voice. How their faces had softened with relief.

“He’s alright?” Zack asked, brows furrowed, leaning over to meet Sephiroth’s eye inside their small shelter.

“Yes.” Sephiroth said, stroking his hand up and down Cloud’s back slowly. “He always is.”

He knew it would make Cloud blush. He could feel Cloud’s little smile as he breathed against his shirt, still calming down slowly.

“Do you need anything?” Genesis asked, eyes averted as if he didn’t really care. He was watching the sky, where the rain was petering out to a mist, and the sun was slowly breaking through.

“Yes.” Sephiroth said. “Something only you can do.”

“Me?” No mistaking Genesis’s expression. Pride and pleasure. “Why of course. What can I do?”

“Please go peel my arm out of the mud wherever you flung it.” Sephiroth replied.


	29. Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The travelers are interrupted just outside Gold Saucer by those who wish them the worst.

* * *

“Is that the Gold Saucer?” Aerith asked, squinting into the distance like an intrepid explorer. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that she was riding piggyback on one Zack Fair, as if he were a pack mule and not a Soldier.

“Must be.” Genesis said dryly. “Nothing else is that gaudy a color. Let’s steer clear.”

“What? Why?” Zack asked, turning to him so quickly that Aerith had to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’ve heard it's fun!”

“And probably crawling with more Shinra spies than Kalm is.” Angeal added, shaking his head.

“Possibly.” Sephiroth murmured. “However from what I know of Dio, he may have enough of his own private wealth to be willing to ignore Shinra bribes.”

“I don’t care about Shinra, I am _not_ setting foot in that place.” Genesis said sharply, lifting his chin. “It’s gaudy, ludicrous, and a mockery of the arts.”

“Wow, you don’t want to tell us how you really feel?” Tifa drawled. “I’m glad all of you guys feel confident going on, but some of us could really use a change of clothes.”

Her hands were in the pockets of the too-big pants she was wearing. Angeal’s today. She’d somehow made them look good on her. Cinched them at her ankles with the same wraps she put under her fighting gloves, and tied the belt tight. Cloud didn’t say that out loud though. It was already awkward enough with Tifa…

“Doing alright?”

Sephiroth’s voice startled him. He blinked, lifting his eyes to the man at his side. His soft expression, his freshly-cut hair floating soft around his cheeks. Genesis had taken care of it for him while they camped last night. Trimmed it back. It grew fast, and Cloud knew they all understood better why he wanted to keep it short now. After meeting the Other…

Genesis had still been salty about hunting for Sephiroth’s arm in the mud, though, and had spent much of the time loudly complaining and informing Cloud that he had saved him from being snuggled by a lightning rod. Sephiroth hadn’t appeared to mind. The moment Genesis’s hands were in his hair he’d relaxed so thoroughly it looked like he might fall asleep right then and there. Cloud liked to see him like that. Loose-limbed, with his eyes half-closed.

And there had been no worries about Cloud being lonely. Once he’d gotten himself back under control and carefully extracted himself from Sephiroth’s tender hold, Zack had been all over him. Hugging and ruffling his hair and leaning on him and overall being twice the puppy he usually was. And if that hadn’t been enough, there had been Angeal’s lecture about ‘not apologizing for breathing’ after Cloud tried to apologize for falling apart for no reason, and then Aerith’s scolding and hugging, and Tifa’s worried support and—

It had been a busy evening, with _way_ more people doting on him than he was used to or wanted. He was glad to have a break from feeling Sephiroth’s worried eyes on the back of his neck, no matter how kindly intentioned it was.

“I’m fine,” Cloud told him, shaking his head. “Slept plenty. Besides, it’s clear skies today. Shouldn’t be a, uh, repeat incident.”

“I’m not worried about an incident.” Sephiroth muttered.

“Yeah, I know you think I take on too much.” Cloud huffed, rolling his eyes. “Relax. We’re all in the same boat, right? A lot of shit has happened, we’re dealing with it as we go.”

“That’s… yes. One way to put it.” Sephiroth admitted. “If you want to talk—”

“Later.” Cloud promised, and almost meant it.

“Hey, uh…” Zack paused behind them. The lack of his humming caused the whole group to slow. To look back towards him— bringing up the rear of their group with Aerith, only Vincent following behind them, the head of Jenova tangled in his claw.

“What is it, puppy?” Angeal asked.

“Maybe nothing?” Zack said. “But does anyone else hear a helicopter?”

They did soon. The unmistakable black chopper with the stark Shinra logo on the side. It didn’t open fire. It didn’t even come close. But it set down between them and Gold Saucer. And it stayed there.

“Why are we still walking that way?” Tifa asked. “We can go a different—”

“They’ll just follow.” Sephiroth replied with a shrug. May as well face them now.”

“Could be the Turks!” Aerith offered. “They can be reasonable. Sometimes. A little.”

“Depending on which one you get.” Zack added.

“Not Reno.” Aerith agreed.

“Definitely not.” Zack replied with a laugh that almost sounded real.

“Or Tseng.”

“Yeah, no way.”

“Rude?”

“Solid ‘maybe.’ On a good day.”

“Why do you both know so many Turks?” Cloud asked, glancing between them.

“Just one of the many things we bonded over!” Zack informed him, beaming.

“I don’t think it’s the Turks.” Angeal said in low warning. “They’re rarely less than direct. We’re being played with.”

“Well,” Genesis sighed. “That just describes everyone else at Shinra, doesn’t it. Scarlet, Heidegger, the President…”

“The _vice_ president.” Sephiroth added with a sigh.

But no one said the name they were really thinking. Not until they were very, very close. Walking towards the helicopter with weapons drawn and at the ready.

Then the sliding door on the helicopter’s side opened, and—

_Cruel eyes gleamed with interest behind round glasses, and the smile was anything but comforting and—_

Cloud had no sword. He didn’t care. He took one look and started forward— Felt Genesis and Angeal move as well, and Zack from behind them and—

“Don’t.” Sephiroth warned, holding one hand out in front of Cloud and the other in front of Genesis and Angeal.

“He’s right there!” Genesis objected. “Let’s just end this.”

But Cloud knew. Sephiroth wanted that too. If he was stopping them—

“It’s a trap.” Cloud filled in, eyes fixed on Hojo’s cruel smile. He lowered his eyes. Saw the thing in the dirt. The thing twitching and—

One of Sephiroth’s—

“How interesting.” Hojo said, crossing his arms, eyes fixed on Cloud behind his glasses. “Tell me. Do you always pick up on his thoughts now? Or only when they are obvious?”

“What are you talking about?” Cloud snapped.

“Don’t engage.” Angeal warned.

“Well, you are the only one to survive the introduction of his cells, but you’re hardly the perfect clone.” Hojo lifted a hand. Waved it briefly before him. “But it was clear from surveillance that there was a marked change in behavior, and you are still joined at the hip despite the fact that Sephiroth tends to drive others away, so perhaps you were not the failure I assumed you to be.”

“Clone?” Sephiroth whispered, hollowly.

“Don’t engage!” Angeal warned again.

“You didn’t realize?” Hojo laughed. “What did you think? That he simply understood you? He _is_ you. And when the time for Reunion comes, he will—”

“Screw this!”

Cloud flinched in surprise at the blast of fire that burst out over Sephiroth’s right shoulder. Genesis— impatient, angry, defensive. Sephiroth blinked, his agonized expression briefly illuminated by the explosion of fire.

Somewhere before them, Hojo was laughing. Not hit. Then what—

The smoke and fire billowed up and outwards. Something moved inside it. Something easily three stories tall, something— 

Huge fleshy protrusions, black and red and green like Jenova always was, a parody of wings, they twisted and coiled in twists and spikes, joined into the parody of what could have been shoulders. Its neck was long, curved down, showing an empty hound-like face, and its body twisted and churned down from its shoulders, with not even a nod to the basic animal forms of arms or legs. It simply was, that wall of flesh and coiling colors. Bulging from one of its shoulders, a bright green cat’s eye stared down at them, sickeningly familiar.

It lifted its long neck, coiling it back like the arm of an octopus. Cloud almost screamed. Almost gagged. Embedded in its neck, trailing silver down into the twisting flesh, was Sephiroth’s face. Calm and impassive and empty. Eyes closed, but unmistakable. Unmistakable.

“You really should have been at least somewhat more cautious.” Hojo scolded with an almost playful air from somewhere behind the creature, over the screaming roar that did not appear to come from a mouth, but from the creature’s very existence. “Surely I taught you better than such carelessness. But I suppose this is exactly the sort of failure you have chosen, hm?”

The helicopter whirred to life. Sephiroth stood immobile before him, hands still outstretched to stop them, but eyes fixed on the creature before them. Cloud saw it in his eyes. How it hurt, how it frightened him, what he saw in that vast green eye—

No. No, he didn’t see that in Sephiroth, he _felt_ it, as clearly as he would have felt his own horror if it hadn’t been drowned out by—

“Move!” Zack yelled. Grabbed Sephiroth and Cloud both by the backs of their shirts. Hauled them out of the way as the monster’s long neck whipped back down, and a beam of energy shot from its wolf-like mouth, scorching a line in the ground where it passed. Cloud jerked his head up, looked to Genesis and Angeal, but whatever had frozen him and Sephiroth it had not affected them. They had dodged, and Tifa, and Aerith and—

Vincent leapt into the air above them all, gun spinning out into his hand, his cape a tattered banner behind him as he fired over the creature’s head at the helicopter and its passenger. Cloud dragged in a breath. Hojo, Vincent, he hadn’t even— He’d been so caught up—

“Focus!” Zack scolded, releasing him. “Aerith?”

“Staying back on magic duty!” Aerith chimed from behind them. 

“Great! Tifa, you—”

“Nope!” Tifa yelled, something between glee and terror in her voice. She darted past Cloud in a pair of sharp steps, sprinting towards the creature in a zigzag as Genesis flew at it from the other side, drawing its attention.

Cloud stared in wonder as she launched herself at it fists first. Pummeled the yielding flesh.

“Got it!” Zack yelled to her. Then he dragged Cloud and Sephiroth both closer. Squeezed them close. Clacked their heads together like they were a sports team. Not gently. Cloud heard Sephiroth grunt. _Felt_ him focus. “Get in the game!” Zack ordered them both before releasing them and sprinting towards the monster. 

“Seph—” Cloud started.

Sephiroth shook his head tightly, his short hair swaying. The monster threw its head back again. Displaying the empty face of Sephiroth as it charged its beam attack. Angeal threw himself at it. Cloud watched the Buster Sword scrape over the monster’s flesh and leave barely a dent.

Masamune shimmered to life in Sephiroth’s hand. Cloud grit his teeth. Dragged in a breath. Sprinted to the left as Sephiroth slid right. Flanked the creature, aiming to get behind it.

Where he couldn’t see its face.

Vincent landed hard closeby, reloading one-handed against his thigh, still holding the head of Jenova in his claw. Cloud slid past him. Sprinted past where Tifa was unleashing a devastating somersault kick against the creature. He could only watch as a piece of its impossible body unravelled itself to flick her away like an insect.

“Tifa!” He called, breaking off his attack to—

But she was already on her feet, sliding back from the monster balanced on the balls of her feet and one hand, eyes focused and wild.

Cloud turned his attention back to— To the monster. The monster, he told himself firmly. _The monster_. He had no sword. The training blade was on the bottom of that frozen lake in Nibelheim. He wouldn’t let it stop him. It wasn’t stopping Tifa.

He didn’t have her skill with hand to hand, but he had raw power and strength boiling under his skin. He felt himself draw a blank on how to attack. Felt knowledge fill in his gaps.

Knew suddenly, swooping sick realization, that it wasn’t him figuring it out. Followed it anyway. Lept up, landed on the monster’s slick, straight back. Launched off, digging the tips of his toes in. Went for its slender neck. Landed a devastating hit, and felt the flesh bow beneath his fist. No crunch of bone, no split of skin, just an unforgiving stretch as he flipped back off and away before it could unwrap part of its body to strike back. 

He didn’t let himself despair. Didn’t let himself throw his hands up in frustration. Just darted back in. Followed Tifa’s lead. Adapted. Adjusted. Punched, and kicked, and tried desperately to find any particular thing that worked better than the others. That worked at _all_.

Genesis whirled into view over its head, still spinning, fire trailing his sword like paint from a brush, his wing flaring to stop his spin. His eyes blazed with purpose. With surety. He fell back and away as the creature unfurled itself to lash out, and Angeal slid from beneath, with a flap of his wings, scoring the creature beneath its reaching arm. 

The creature’s screaming presence intensified. Coalesced. Cloud grit his teeth, feeling it fill his head like cotton, feeling it—

The creature was adapting. Learning. Cloud’s right hand got trapped. By a too-quick tentacle breaking off the creature’s back. The flesh twisted above it, another green eye staring out at him, familiar and—

He dragged back. Choked back a scream as it scored deep marks down his arm as he pulled away, leaving him bleeding onto the ground. As if it had grown teeth inside its flesh. CLoud shook his arm off, spraying blood. Watched Tifa stumble back in his periphery, gasping for breath, a deep bruise forming across the side of her face where she’d taken another hit.

Above them Vincent’s gunfire rang out over and over, and was abruptly answered by the rattling machine-gun fire of the helicopter. Cloud jerked his head away from the monster to the new threat. Watched Aerith crouch, arms lifted as the gunfire pounded into the ground leading up to her.

“Aerith!” Zack broke off from hacking at the monster, sprinting to her. She spread her arms before he could reach, and a wave of light burst out from her. It didn’t stop the bullets, but it wrapped around them all like— Like a breath of spring rain.

The cuts in his arm scabbed over and sealed. Tifa lifted a hand to her cheek in amazement. Glanced to Aerith.

“I’m good!” Aerith sang, gleeful and light as if she hadn’t just been nearly riddled by machine gun fire.

“New plan, helicopter first!” Genesis snarled from the creature’s other side. 

Cloud saw the streak of red leather dart up into the air once more. As he moved upwards, Vincent landed again. Close to Cloud.

“Take this.” Vincent said, tossing his gun almost carelessly to Cloud, followed by extra ammo.

“But—”

Vincent didn’t so much as pause before retrieving another gun from his hip. “I can only use one.” He said by way of explanation, and leapt into the air again in a flicker of red fabric. He launched off the monster’s shoulder, soaring upwards.

The static in the air redoubled. Cloud grit his teeth. Lifted the gun. Not as familiar in his hand as a sword. But that couldn’t be right. He was infantry. He’d only started using swords at all while traveling, so when had—

Because it wasn’t him. _Gods_. It wasn’t—

“Poor child.” Whispered a voice. Too close, too dull, too—

The creature turned. A slow, inexorable motion. Its head twisted first, then the long sinuous neck and the bulk of its body, and that green eye fixed on him and—

“Sweet child.” She whispered again, dull and raw and hollow. The creature’s mouth didn't move, but he _knew_ it was the creature. The creature, and the head, and the Other and it sang in his bones, it burned his shoulder, it—

“Why do you fight so hard?” The woman’s voice whispered.

“Cloud!” Someone was calling, distant.

“You are us.” She whispered, and that strange head lowered towards him. Twisted down, curling over with the bulk of it following behind. “Be us. You will never hurt again.”

Cloud’s eyes fixed on the silver he could see. The edge of Sephiroth’s face. That broken, stony image of the man he loved. He loved him. Didn’t he? He wasn’t just— It wasn’t just because he was— because of what Hojo—

An impossible force plowed into his right side. He tumbled. Gasping in breath, bruised, scrambled against—

Angeal. Angeal, with one arm wrapped around him and the Buster Sword lifted as behind him the creature crashed like a wave. Distorted and reformed, screaming its rage at having its prey stolen away.

“Angeal,” Cloud gasped, too staggered to react to do anything but speak, to—

“Focus, Trooper!” Angeal ordered.

“Can’t you hear her?” Cloud gasped, eyes fixed on the monster. Something inside him was clawing. Something inside him was writing against the bars of his ribcage, yearning to go to her.

“Her?” Angeal asked.

“Corrupted half-being.” She whispered poisonously, reforming herself.

Sephiroth streaked down on her crumpled form from behind, Masamune flashing. He scored deep. Backed away as a gout of black blood sprayed steaming from the mass of flesh. That green eye rolled to him, but the face— it’s face— Sephiroth’s face—

Cloud saw it open its mouth. Impossibly wide. Screaming. Saw the spray of black splatter up against Buster Sword, held like a shield between Cloud and the creature.

Cloud. Not Angeal.

Angeal jerked. Screamed. Threw his head back. Cloud stared up at him in horror as he watched the black sludge worm into the crack-like scars the degradation had left on his face. Watched it seep into his damaged skin and expand the marks, burning out over the right side of his face in stark black octagonal—

“Angeal!” Zack was screaming, his sword embedded in the monster, struggling to pull it free to go to them.

Angeal’s eyes rolled back. Cloud could see it— could _feel_ it, her cells working into the cracks of him, finding the sickness, the weakness, digging—

Cloud jerked forward. Pressed his hand to Angeal’s temple on instinct.

 _Called_ it.

It answered.

The agony was familiar. The feel of her cells entering his body was familiar. The scar on his shoulder burned. His eyes burned. The thing inside him clawed for freedom and Cloud—

Cloud was _angry_.

Somewhere deep inside him, an empty mask of a man was weeping. The black blood sank into the skin of his hand, and it seared through his blood like a homecoming. Angeal gasped for breath. His fingers pressed into the bleeding skin that had been about to rend him down to his base parts.

“Stay back.” Cloud told him, rising to his feet.

He passed Angeal Vincent’s gun.

He took the Buster Sword. It was a familiar weight in his hand. The creature was rising again. Collecting itself. Sephiroth was off balance. Cloud could see it in him. Could _feel_ it in him. How much of their understanding was because of Her? Because of the Other? How much of what he knew about Sephiroth was front hat unwanted presence in his mind?

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it matter. He swung Buster Sword neatly and charged back into battle. Lept into the air, and came down with all his force and the sword’s combined on the monster’s side. Felt the blade stick and drag. Felt the creature’s scream echo through him. Sephiroth was there in seconds. Cool eyes emotionless as he sank his sword in on the opposite side. The two must have nearly met in the middle.

“Keep Genesis back!” Cloud called to him, fighting for purchase so they could tear through the creature together. “The blood hurt Angeal!”

“What?” Genesis yelled from midair. 

Cloud glanced up. saw him looking back at Angeal. The helicopter was smoking, but still airborne. Cloud glanced at the machine guns. The armor plating. The charging laser. Not an easy fight going on overhead either.

That was the only reason he saw _him_ lean out the side. Saw the launcher on his shoulder and the aim and the _look_ on his face—

“Aerith!” Cloud called, yanking the sword free from the monster without completing the finishing blow. He launched off it, but he knew from the look on Hojo’s face, he knew—

He fired. Not a rocket, Cloud’s brain realized with relief and terror. A net. He was going to take her, he was—

Aerith was looking up to him, lips parted, eyes warm. She was sweating, and her hair was sticking to her face with exertion, and the very ground around her was smouldering from the force of her spells and— Something wrapped around his ankle from behind. Dragged him back, and Tifa yelled and _he wasn’t going to make it in time._

A blur of red shot into the path of the net. Vincent went down in a tumble of ropes and red fabric.

“Always in the way, aren’t you?” Hojo’s voice called, barely audible.

Genesis was already on the way, sword drawn, ready to cut the rope, get Vincent at least unhooked—

That was before the helicopter opened fire. Aerith screamed, and Zack threw himself over her, but the bullets weren’t for her. Not this time. They pounded into the form on the ground.

“Vincent.” Sephiroth gasped from close by. Horror and loss. Cloud felt it sink through him. Through them. A connection so new and raw that even with the ache of horror the predominant emotion was confusion.

“Bastard!” Genesis howled, blitzing towards the helicopter, redirecting his burning red sword to trying to cut the tail off. 

“Zack move.” Aerith ordered.

The monster howled, flinging Cloud away, twisting upward and outward. Cloud tumbled when he hit. Rolled to his feet.

Another roar answered the creature’s.

“Zack, move!” Aerith was yelling. “I can help him!”

“Babe, don’t, it’s not—”

The roar again, louder and lasting and shaking the very air. Then a feeling like a pop. Like something exploding. As if they were all underwater, and something had exploded. Dragging them all closer and shoving them back and—

Genesis cried out. Tumbled out of the sky, wing bleeding trails in the sky. The roaring had covered up the gunshots. The helicopter whirled away, the net still dragging behind it. Cloud saw something tangled but—

But there was a fog of black and purple mist where Vincent had fallen and—

Wait, no— Under his feet, something— 

“Move!”

Sephiroth’s voice. He moved. A tendril of green-black flesh burst out from the ground where he’d been as the creature straightened to a new, terrible height. When it lifted its head to roar, Cloud could only stare in horror at the skull where Sephiroth’s face had been before in its neck.

“Vincent!” Tifa yelled.

But it wasn’t Vincent who charged past her towards the monster. It wasn’t even _human_. Massive black horns, and bristling red mane on the back of its neck, all-over covered in purple fur, huge claws—

It launched into the monster. Biting and tearing at it with outright fury.

“That’s Vincent?” Cloud yelped despite himself, forcing himself to his feet.

“Zack, go!” Aerith repeated. Shoved away from him to go to Genesis where he was picking himself up off the ground, his wing bleeding and spasming, throwing him off balance, spattering blood across the ground.

“Cloud.”

Sephiroth hadn’t _said_ it. He was sure he hadn’t said it. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like this. Did he? He didn’t know, he—

But he went anyway. Forced his eyes on the monster. Forced his feet into motion. Kept his senses extended. Feeling the network of tendrils in the ground beneath it. But every time he closed in, it just threw him away.

“Barrier magic!” Cloud called out.

“The tentacles.” Sephiroth suggested, aloud this time.

Tifa broke off her assault to focus her attacks on the tendril closest to her. Cloud followed suit. Let out a breath at the retort of Vincent’s gun, glancing up to see Angeal on his feet. Not looking great, but upright and firing.

Buster sword sliced through a tentacle at its base. Sent it toppling like a tree. Cloud moved on to the next one. Met Zack there.

“Hey, Spike!” Zack said. “This isn’t going great, huh?”

“Still breathing.” Cloud pointed out past a grunt, hacking at the tentacle before him.

“I guess!” Zack replied with a nod and a cheeky grin.

Cloud took a second to watch as the tentacle crumpled. Looked to Zack. “That thing— Vincent’s—”

“Dunno.” Zack replied, shaking his head. “That’s his body.”

“Fuck.” Cloud muttered.

“Yeah.” Zack replied. “Back to it?”

“Back to it.”

“Faster, please!” Tifa yelled at them.

Cloud glanced up. Saw Sephiroth swing in a shining, terrible arc. The sword severed three of the writhing flesh pieces. But Cloud could see something was wrong. Something was off. Focus, he told himself, and took three, four, running leaps. Slid in beneath a sweeping tentacle to slice along its base.

They were sturdy. Horrifyingly sturdy. Cloud thought any moment Angeal would show up and grab his sword away. Take down the tentacles three or four at a time like Sephiroth. He didn’t. He hung back, firing steadily. The monster that had been Vincent couldn’t seem to figure out that attacking the main body wasn’t working, but it also didn’t seem to be getting too hurt, being tossed around like a bag of meat while it tried over and over.

It never attacked them. Not even when Sephiroth was between it and the monster. It just circled him to attack again.

Cloud took a hit from a tentacle in the ribs. Tumbled. Felt healing magic wash over him. Aerith? No. Genesis. He was pale, but upright. Keeping back like Cloud had warned he should, casting. It would drain him dry in no time.

End it, he urged himself. Fight, be stronger, be like—

But he didn’t actually know what the Other Cloud had been like. He didn’t know what he’d done, or how he’d done it. He knew Angeal and Genesis, dead before he knew them.

_Angeal went to one knee. Exhausted. Wounded. Still firing. Genesis’s wing dragged on the ground, broken, leaving a trail of blood as he fought to keep his distance from the writhing tentacles reaching for him, eager to corrupt._

He knew Zack, dead on the ground.

_Zack, turning to glance at Aerith, left his blind-side open. Took a shot from one of the tentacles. Screamed. There had been barbs. His side was bleeding. He got to his feet again anyway._

He knew Aerith, dying before his eyes.

_Aerith, lifting her staff to cast and coming up empty. Too much magic used, no items to replenish it. He watched her spin her staff and charge forward to join Tifa fighting, not heedless of the danger but accepting it._

He knew Sephiroth. Sephiroth, cruel. Sephiroth, happy. Sephiroth, free.

_Something was wrong with Sephiroth. He wasn’t moving right, he wasn’t moving fast enough. The creature’s next laser attack spun and shifted and Sephiroth was slow to dodge. Shielded with his metal arm. Clenched his teeth._

_It must have hurt. Cloud knew how much it took to make him wince._

But himself? The Cloud he would have been? All he knew of him was the damage. The pain. The fear. The emptiness.

He felt the darkness coil in him. Her darkness. He could hear her. Whispering to herself. Angry, boiling. Felt her focusing her power. She was going to kill them. They weren’t strong enough. Cloud wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t protect them, he—

Sephiroth was there between one moment and the next. Gripped Cloud’s shoulders.

“Focus.” He said, hard and tense.

“I can’t.” Cloud whispered, staring into green eyes. “I can’t.”

Sephiroth froze up. Cloud saw his pupils shrink in horror. Saw him pull away in shock and terror and—

The creature’s tentacle wrapped around him like a vice. Squeezed around his center, twisting up towards his throat.

Cloud bolted forward. Swung Buster Sword. Felt something hit him and send him tumbling away. Heard Aerith cry out, and Tifa call her name, and Zack shouting and—

Something in him unlocked. Opened. _Burned_. That anger from before, but tenfold. Complete fury. It wrapped around him like a blanket. He charged, and she turned towards him. From the corner of his eye he saw Zack take down the tentacle holding Sephiroth, sending him to the ground.

The barrier dropped.

Cloud’s sword burned blue. He shoved it into the base of the monster, and launched upwards. Kept his sword embedded as he blazed up the monster. As he traced where its spine would have been, letting the anger send him all the way up. It twisted as he went. The skull that had been Sephiroth’s face stared at him.

He shattered it with a scream.

* * *

The creature was melting and bubbling still. There was so much of it. It wasn’t dissolving into the lifestream, but it was dissolving. Cloud waded out of it. Towards where the purple creature had faded back into red and black. Tifa and Aerith were already at Vincent’s side.

“Hello,” Aerith was saying. “Did you know your heart isn’t beating?”

“It never is.” Vincent’s voice answered, low. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that before.”

“You think?” Tifa asked, voice thick with worried tears. She shoved his shoulder, standing up and dusting herself off. She looked to him and breathed out as he approached.

“You okay, Cloud?” She asked.

Cloud nodded. Knew it was a lie. Jenova’s cells were pulling at his feet as he walked through them. They wanted to be part of him. She wanted—

“Cloud, your eyes…” Tifa whispered, her hand drawing back towards her chest.

“I know.” Cloud said.

He knew.

“Let’s get away from here.” He muttered. “Get everyone back on their feet and together. How bad is Genesis?”

“Pretty bad.” Aerith said, straightening. She met Cloud’s eyes without fear. She just clicked her tongue and walked closer. Wiped a hand over his cheek.

Her touch burned. But when she released it Cloud felt like he was seeing right again. Breathing right again.

“Thanks.” He muttered. “I shouldn’t have— It hit Angeal and—”

“You did the right thing.” Aerith soothed. “You’re still here. Right?”

“Right.” Cloud said, looking back.

Zack was helping Sephiroth up. Something was wrong. He was moving wrong.

“You can go to him.” Aerith said softly.

“I’m afraid to.” Cloud whispered.

Vincent was on his feet. Tifa was hovering, but if Vincent was unsteady at all he wasn’t showing it. He stood as tall and calm as ever. Cloud blinked as Vincent shifted his headband. It had fallen off at some point in the fight. He tightened it around his forehead. Around the bullet hole still open there, unbleeding.

“It is your choice in the end.” Vincent said. “How much it matters to you that he is a monster.”

Cloud stared at him. Felt his back straighten and his eyes harden in ways that had nothing to do with Jenova or the chanting hum of Reunion still echoing up from the earth.

“He’s not a monster.” Cloud hissed, and turned to go to the man he loved.

Zack had gone to Angeal. Sephiroth was still standing in place, staring after the helicopter. Cloud knew why. He saw it too, sometimes. The red stare of her eye.

“They have her.” Sephiroth said by way of greeting.

Cloud ignored him. Took his metallic hand. Turned it over slowly. The hand was locked. Clenched into a claw. It wasn’t glowing at all anymore. Not even dimly. It was dark and powerless and heavy.

“I have to go after her.”

“No.” Cloud said, carefully working at the first finger. Straightening it slowly out of the claw. “You don’t.”

“They’ll destroy the world.”

“It can wait.”

“It can’t.”

His wing flared. Cloud clenched down on his hold. Gripped his arm. Yanked him back down when he started to gain ground.

“Don’t run.” Cloud ordered.

“I’m not running, I am _fixing_ a _mistake_.”

He tried again. Cloud dug in his hands. Dug in his feet. Hauled him down. Felt his eyes blur. Too hot. Tears spilled. He let them.

“Don’t.” Cloud repeated, aware that his voice was choked. “I know you’re scared. Stay.”

Sephiroth didn’t move. Eyes on the horizon, cold hand stiff under Cloud’s hand.

“Stay.” Cloud repeated, lifting his eyes slowly. Afraid of what he’d see in Sephiroth’s face. Afraid of what Sephiroth would see in him.

But when their eyes met it was just Sephiroth. Sephiroth, looking stressed and worried. Sephiroth, who he loved. However it had happened.

“The others are hurt.” Cloud murmured. “Come help.”

Sephiroth was still for a moment. Then, at last, he folded his wing at his back and lowered his head. Looked away from the fading red light of Jenova’s eye.

“I’m sorry.” Vincent said later. “When I transformed it was all I could do to ensure you were not hurt. I could not hold the head.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” Sephiroth replied, shaking his head.

“Oh, _he_ gets a ‘glad you’re alive?’” Genesis muttered, frazzled and angry and hurting.

They were all out of magic. Nothing to be done but set the bone of his wing and bind it while they tried to regroup, out on the edge of the torn battlefield.

“You know we’re all glad you’re okay.” Aerith scolded him, hand gentle as she wrapped Zack’s slowly-healing torso. There must have been some poison on the monster’s barbs. The wound wasn’t healing as a Soldier should have.

“That was nearly a disaster.” Angeal warned, still pale and tired. His face had bloody scabs where the Jenova cells had tried to unmake him, but they were healing slowly.

“We’re new at this.” Zack objected, shaking his head. “I think all things considered we did okay. I mean, the monster’s dead, and none of us are.”

“One of us nearly was.” Tifa reminded, not unkindly.

Vincent looked away.

Cloud looked to Sephiroth. Looked to him to solve it. To step in. To take command.

Sephiroth was looking at the broken ground where they had battled. Thinking too much again. Too hurt by it. Too wounded.

He heard it too, Cloud reminded himself. He heard what Hojo said about us too.

It made him feel sick. But now wasn’t the time. Now was the time for—

“Look.” He said, straightening. “This doesn’t change anything. Right? We’re going to the Forgotten City, and Aerith’s going to talk to the planet, and we’re going to handle this. Jenova, Shinra, the whole thing. One step at a time. For now we need rest, healing, food, and clothes. The Golden Saucer is right there. So let’s pick up and mosey while we still can.”

He felt their eyes on him. Their attention. He tried to keep his expression cool and calm. Then Genesis snorted.

“ _Mosey_?” He repeated with incredulity dripping from the word.

“Shut up.” Cloud muttered.

“I don’t disagree with the sentiment, but _mosey_ , Strife?”

“I won’t lie, a bed sounds _awesome_.” Zack pitched in, arms over his head while Aerith finished tying off the bandage.

“I’d kill for a shower.” Tifa sighed.

“We’re wanted men.” Angeal reminded. “And women.” He quickly amended, though it just made Tifa and Aerith sigh in annoyance.

“And right now we’re standing where we just fought our worst enemy.” Cloud reminded. “Should we just wait for him to come back by?”

“No.” Sephiroth said, too quickly. Cloud regretted the way he’d put it. But only for a moment.

“Perhaps someone in there would know how to charge your arm once again.” Vincent pointed out, eyes on Sephiroth’s clawed left hand.

“Well?” Aerith said, straightening and putting her hands on her hips. “Are we going or what?”

“Who are you asking?” Zack asked, straightening with a wince. “Cloud’s our leader, and he says Gold Saucer.”

“ _He’s_ the leader?” Genesis asked sharply. “First _Aerith_ now _Strife_ ? Where is the _respect?_ ”

But even as he griped he was picking himself up off the ground. Hiding winces and gasps as his broken wing sagged. Aerith and Tifa had rigged up something like a sling to keep it folded at his back, but it clearly hurt.

“Let it go, Gen.” Angeal counseled, patting his friend lightly on his other shoulder. If you didn’t look too closely you could pretend not to see Angeal putting a little weight on Genesis’s side.

“Sephiroth.” Cloud prompted.

Sephiroth looked to him, and Cloud felt it again. That stirring. That knowledge of knowing something he shouldn’t know.

“I know.” He murmured. “We need to talk. We will. But for now…”

“Yes.” Sephiroth lifted his eyes to the faintly glowing light of the distant amusement park. “For now.”

It was a slow, painful walk. But at least they moved together.

“Hey,” Genesis said, pale and sweating with pain but still steady-voiced. “Sephiroth?”

“Yes?”

“How many of those, um,” he hesitated. Caught a breath. “How many Other arms did you cut off again?”

“Ah.” Sephiroth said, and was silent for a moment before he answered.

“Roughly thirteen.”

“Hah.” Genesis replied, more a statement than a laugh.

Even Cloud couldn’t argue with that sentiment.


	30. Forced Bed Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his close call, Angeal has to rest. It's not as easy as it sounds.

_In his childhood home, in the bed that had been his mother and father’s, with monstrous wings sprouting from his shoulder, Angeal set to work_ _._ _Outside he could hear the barely-muffled sound of Genesis laughing through Loveless quotes as his sword clashed against Zack’s, over and over_ _. Angeal_ _just_ _kept working. Determined, steady, honorable, he_ _was supposed_ _to be—_

_“Even keel for me, Angeal, okay?” Zack had said, his eye bright with worry before he ran to help Aerith._

_Even keel, he told himself, staring at the line feeding into his right arm. The IV line that his mother had dusted off from their basement, because she was not a simple farmer’s wife. She was not gentle and kind. She was nothing like he’d thought she was._

_He was nothing like he’d thought he was either. But he’d promised. ‘Even keel.’ So he would_ _just_ _…_

 _The wings, though. At least the wings. Everyone could agree those were wrong. He’d be more even keel if they were_ _just_ _…_

 _He plucked the first feather, and it stung_ _terribly_ _. Like yanking free an eyelash. He blinked back tears from the stinging pain and plucked another, and another, and another. Working at the foreign flesh, chanting inside himself ‘even keel’ and ‘I’m human’ at once._

 _Zack had held him so tight when he came back._ _Had whispered ‘stop’ and ‘Angeal, please.’ Had guided his hand away from the bloody pinpricks where his feathers had been_ _. Had whispered ‘it’s okay, it’s okay’ until Angeal had stopped shaking. Had told him ‘wings aren’t so bad’ and ‘you wouldn’t do that to Genesis, so don’t do it to yourself.’_

 _Though Angeal knew he was far gone, he was there enough to feel shame. To see Zack’s fear and worry. To know that he_ _was supposed_ _to be the one comforting Zack in his times of stress, not adding to it. Some mentor, he thought_ _poisonously_ _to himself._

 _Aerith had brought Genesis to him later. Genesis with his fragile greying hair and his tired eyes and his enormous black wing. They didn’t have anything to say to each other anymore. Not_ _really_ _. But Genesis sat beside him and let Gillian hook an IV to his arm. Zack looked shaken, and somewhat singed, but everyone was alive. That was the goal, right? Keep everyone alive._

 _Aerith knelt before him. Took one of his hands and one of Genesis’s. Spoke_ _quietly_ _for a moment, then closed her eyes. Her touch tingled after a while. Angeal should have known why, but he couldn’t remember. Genesis shivered at his side, his eyes flickering_ _unsettlingly_ _yellow._

_Angeal watched his mother peel off her gloves as she left the room. She didn’t look back._

_Genesis sat close to him,_ _uncharacteristically_ _silent. When he spoke it was in a cold, sharp voice._

_“You won’t be able to stop me forever. They deserve to die.”_

_Zack smiled at him like his heart was breaking. Crossed his arms and leaned his weight back. Looked down at Aerith as she prayed, fond and soft and worried. He looked so much older recently, Angeal thought with a pang. Because of me._

_He lifted his hand towards his wing. Touched feathers. Paused before tearing. They weren’t his._ ‘You wouldn’t do that to Genesis’ _Zack had said._ _Genesis, who was glaring with yellow eyes at Zack while his skin cracked like porcelain along the side of his cheek_ _._

 _Angeal_ _was built_ _on a bedrock of sorrow. On austerity as love. But wasn’t that his mother, walking away without looking back? Wasn’t that his father, dying for a sword rather than staying? Wasn’t that his blood on the sheet, making Zack shake while he held him?_

 _Angeal spread his hand over the unfamiliar feathers and stroked_ _slowly_ _down the back of Genesis’s vast black wing_ _. Genesis dragged in a breath, straightening out of his leaning glare. Blinked twice at the wall. Tilted his head_ _slightly_ _towards Angeal without actually looking._

_“Even keel,” Angeal whispered to him, stroking the wing again._

_“Even keel.” Genesis replied in a voice as broken as his fractured skin. And then “even keel,” again and again as he curled in on himself, covering his face and his flickering eyes._

_Angeal kept stroking his wing in slow, steady motions. Felt how it threatened to shake Genesis to pieces with kindness. That was good, Angeal thought. Better to go to pieces from kindness than this unending indifference. Better to fall apart from a friend than to lose yourself to the void of despair._

_Genesis leaned into him by inches, until his head was in Angeal’s lap. His wing shook under his hand._

_An hour later Aerith had to stop. Lifted a hand to her temple. Forced a smile._

_“Get some rest,” she encouraged, touching gentle fingers to Angeal’s cheek._

_He nodded. To her and to Zack as he ushered her out of the room. Zack gave him a small smile and a short two-finger wave. Forgiveness, approval, affection._

_“I’m sorry.” Genesis whispered, long after Aerith and Zack had left them to rest. Not asleep as Angeal had assumed._

_Angeal_ _just_ _kept stroking his wing in slow, steady motions._

_“I’ve never been a good friend, have I?” Genesis's voice shook under the weight of the realization_

_“Shh,” Angeal replied, putting his other hand in his friend’s greying hair. He didn’t stroke it like he was his feathers. It fell out too_ _easily_ _for that. He looked at Genesis’s wing. Once it had been glossy and smooth. Now even it was graying._

 _He didn’t want to answer him. Genesis_ _probably_ _didn’t want him to answer either. He knew Genesis cared. He saw how much he did. But only because he knew him so well. Because he saw the tells of Genesis’s stress. Because he’d been there when Genesis_ _nearly_ _killed Sephiroth. Seen how afraid he was._

_But there he was now, lying in Angeal’s lap, soaking up his affection without even noticing his bloody white wing._

_All Angeal could see were the cracks in Genesis’s cheek and the grey in his hair and his yellow eyes. He didn’t know if Genesis noticed anything about him in return. The cracks in his skin, or the blood, or his grey exhaustion. He didn’t know if Genesis ever_ _really_ _looked at him at all. If he did, he never said anything._

 _“They’re not getting better.” Angeal heard his mother murmur_ _distantly_ _, out in the main room._

_“They are.” Aerith objected._

_“How?” Gillian asked. “Where?”_

_“Angeal hurt his wing when he was alone, but he didn’t try to do anything drastic.” Zack said, firm and sturdy. “And Genesis wants to kill his parents, but he didn’t try to kill_ me _. That’s improvement. They’re better.”_

_“Move your goalpost.” Aerith urged. “They’re still here. That’s the goal.”_

_“That’s the goal.” Angeal whispered, closing his eyes._

_In his lap, Genesis whispered “even keel’ to himself like a mantra. Angeal kept stroking his wing even though his fingers wanted to pull the feathers free._

* * *

Angeal dragged his hand down from his idle wings again and took a slow, steadying breath. He had promised Zack he would be okay alone, and he did not intend to break that promise. No plucking feathers, no self destruction.

It was, at least, not as bad as before. Not like the real degradation had been. It felt like… Like walking a well-worn path, and thinking of the songs you used to sing there. Like the orchards back at home. He didn’t _have_ to sing the songs— he didn’t even really _want_ to— but his mind remembered doing it, and it felt a little wrong not to.

Not that the orchards were still standing. Angeal wondered for the first time whether Genesis’s parents had survived the bombs. Gillian had. Angeal still wasn’t sure how to feel about that. About her. He had a feeling he knew what Genesis would say about his own parents’ fate, though.

If not ‘who cares’ then ‘good riddance.’ Even without the degradation, there was clearly no love lost there.

Angeal almost rubbed a hand over his face, but froze when his fingers touched the bandages. He’d forgotten again. The sting wasn’t so bad now. Whatever Cloud had done— whatever it had done to him— it had stopped the feeling of being shredded into his component parts. Now it was just an aching slow-healing series of scabs.

“Nothing for it but rest.” Aerith had said, hands on her hips.

“Want me to stay with you?” Zack had offered, still pale under his tan from the poison.

“I’m fine, puppy.” Angeal had told him. “Go have fun.”

It had been too long since Zack could have fun. And not just him. The minute Sephiroth had flown them— two by two— up to the top of Gold Saucer Angeal had seen it in them. Aerith and Tifa and Zack and Cloud. The way their eyes flicked to the lights and their expressions lifted. Still so young, he’d thought in aching realization.

Not that he and Genesis and Sephiroth were _old_ , but…

He’d seen Cloud’s face grim and worried so many times he’d forgotten how young he could look. How young he’d looked that first day, awkward and terrified, waking up on his sofa, apologizing profusely for the trouble, for the bloodspots on the upholstery, for needing to use his shower…

There was a reason he’d insisted they all go out and enjoy themselves. Even Sephrioth, with his haunted eyes and his quiet worry and the secret worried glances he kept casting towards Cloud.

“Try to enjoy it.” Angeal had encouraged. “Not every day Dio gives you run of his little city, right? I’ll sit right here and behave.”

He was glad they had gone. Really, he was. It was just—

He dragged his hand down from his wing again when he felt his fingers touch feathers. He should have asked to borrow Genesis’s new Loveless translation or something.

Weird, actually, that he hadn’t read it yet. Even weirder that Genesis hadn’t been reading it aloud whether anyone wanted him to or not. It wasn’t his usual way of things. But then…

Angeal followed that train of thought. Absently ran his fingers over his feathers without plucking. Going for the helicopter instead of the monster glory-kill, yanking Sephiroth’s arm away in the thunderstorm, his watchful, worried eyes as Sephiroth recovered from The Other’s meddling…

And then on that long, exhausting walk to the Gold Saucer, hadn’t he been close? With his wing bound to his back to keep the damage from worsening, and his face grey with pain, hadn’t he still been nearby? Zack had been the one to carry him when he gave out ( _“I got him, Seph! He’s not heavy, he’s my mentor.”_ ) but Genesis had been watching. Had been glancing at the black marks on his face. Hadn’t even mentioned the pain he had to be in. Not even when Sephiroth flew them up to the entryway, over the built-in ground-level prison.

It must have hurt, but Genesis had just said ‘well, aren’t you glad you didn’t cut it off now.’

Angeal looked over at his hand on his own wing. Battle-calloused fingers against smooth, firm feathers. Not soft and downy. Hard, and sharp, and brittle. Beneath them, he knew, was a layer of softer down, filling in the space, keeping the flesh beneath warm. He hated to think about the skin beneath. His skin. It was why he’d plucked it before. He’d wanted to see. But he didn’t hurt it now. He carefully tucked his thumb and forefinger under one feather, and pulled down and out. No pressure, just a tentative grooming motion. Like he’d do to a chocobo.

It was a mark of inhumanity. A mark of monstrosity. But he couldn’t change those things about himself now. Did they still need to be fought against? To be punished? He thought of Sephiroth’s wing, and the creature that had been his monstrous arm. Cast-off and reclaimed by something far, far worse… he thought of—

The door opened. Quiet enough that Angeal looked up expecting Sephiroth. He met instead the surprised blue eyes of Genesis Rhapsodos. For a split second, Angeal thought he looked so tired. Then Genesis burst into a smile that seemed to evaporate the air of weariness at once.

“Oh?” He all but purred, sweeping the rest of the way into the room. “I thought you were supposed to be sleeping, Mr. Bedrest.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be out ‘painting the town.’” Angeal returned, shifting where he was sitting on the plush bed.

“Imagine my dismay to find it’s already thoroughly painted.” Genesis closed the door behind himself.

Angeal let himself glance at his wing. Missing a couple primary feathers from the battle, and still healing. Dio’s delight at having such ‘distinguished young men’ visiting had extended to treating their wounded. It seemed that as Sephiroth had guessed, Dio was wealthy enough not to care if Shinra had a ransom out. Especially since Zack, Cloud, Tifa, _and_ Aerith had agreed to fighting in the battle arena.

Genesis might have too, if not for his wing. Broken and fragile. The Gold Saucer medics team had assured them they were used to unusual patch-jobs, and the make-shift splints over his feathers spoke to that.

“Stop.” Genesis muttered, striding over and putting a finger directly between Angeal’s eyebrows. “You’re giving yourself wrinkles again.”

“You’re worried about wrinkles?” Angeal chuckled, gesturing at the bandages over his face.

“Just this one.” Genesis pressed harder on his forehead, then dropped the touch with a sigh. “You fret too much. You’re the one who’s hurt, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re just peachy.” Angeal muttered. “Wing hurting?”

“My wing is fine. It's just disgustingly gaudy out there.” Genesis scoffed. “I left Aerith to tow the others to that so-called theater.”

“Didn’t want to heckle?”

That wasn’t like him. Genesis’s favorite pastime was complaining. Angeal felt a little swell of worry bubble up in his chest. If somehow this had kick-started the degradation for both of them…

Genesis gave an elegant half-shrug. Usually it was a rolling motion that he’d taken to accentuating with his wing. Now it was stiff and uncomfortable.

“You should rest.” He said by way of response. “I’ll order up some sort of snack. May as well, he gave us the run of the place.”

“Genesis—”

“I assume you’ll be wanting tea rather than coffee? I’m getting it for you anyway, you’ll never sleep otherwise.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Angeal asked, pushing off the blankets and standing, worried and frustrated.

Mistake, he realized. He wasn’t healed, and it wasn’t just his face trying to fix itself. The blood drained out of his head and he felt himself—

Hands on his shoulders. Guiding him back down to sit on the edge of the bed. Angeal took a slow breath. Another. It didn’t catch in his lungs. He wasn’t rotting. He wasn’t shedding his cells into the innocent air. He wasn’t degrading. _Calm_.

When he managed to look up again, Genesis was watching him with a stricken look, eyes bright and blessedly blue. He sank down to kneel before him, his shoulders slumping and his broken wing drooping in its splints. He looked so…

“Nothing’s wrong.” He admitted, his voice hollow and sad. “I only wanted to make sure…” He shook his head. Took a shaking breath. “You should get some rest.”

“Genesis—”

“Relax! I’ll find some theater or another to heckle. Sorry for disturbing your deep and troubled thoughts.”

“Gen, stop.”

Angeal gripped his arm when he made to rise. Held on. Watched Genesis pull against him once, then go still, eyes turned away, smile twitching at the corner. The scars from the degradation marked his cheekbone, stark in the hotel room’s artificial light as they were not under the warm sun.

He had front row seats to how the smile crumpled. How his expression went hollow and lost. How he kept his gaze fixed on the far wall instead of looking back to Angeal. How his eyes tinged red at the corners, a shimmer of tears gathering just above his lower eyelid, threatening to spill. He took a shaking breath, and dropped at last back to his knees.

“I’m bad at this.” He murmured, his usually rich voice raw and small.

“I don’t think you’re bad at anything.” Angeal shook his head. Squeezed Genesis’s arm. Felt the muscles there, loose and yielding.

“I don’t need you to coddle me.” Genesis hissed, puffing in offense. “We both know that’s not true.”

Angeal hesitated. He could play it off. Could joke. But that was more Zack’s thing than his. He was Genesis’s best friend. He always had been. But it had always been… challenging. Best friend and moral compass wasn’t always a nice place to be.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about heroes.” Genesis admitted at last into the silence, his shoulders slumping and his eyes lowered. “I’ve been thinking about how certain I used to be of what story we were telling together. I’ve been wondering why I was so married to it being a tragedy.”

“You were married to it being Loveless.” Angeal objected, shaking his head. It made him dizzy. “You always said it was the most beautiful story.”

“I don’t think I understood.” Genesis admitted as if he were lancing a wound. “What beauty was. I see it more clearly now. But I think it’s too late.”

“Too late?”

Genesis’s lips tightened at the corners. His brows pulled down and together. A tense expression, bordering on angry.

“I only wanted to make sure you were alright.” He sounded wounded. Far more wounded than he had with a broken wing dragging on the ground. “And it made you think something was _wrong_ with me.”

Angeal stared. Took a slow, bracing breath. Put a name, at last, to the expression on Genesis’s face. To that shame and sorrow that looked so out of place on him.

“Gen.” He whispered, and leaned forward.

He wrapped his arms around him. Held him as close as he could at the awkward angle. Felt his shoulders bunch and shake under his hands. Felt his stuttering inhalation.

Genesis didn’t answer him. He knelt on the floor and shook. Angeal pressed his face into his red and white hair. Rubbed his thumb up and down the trembling muscles in his shoulder. Waited.

“I’m trying,” Genesis whispered at last. “I’m trying.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have..” Angeal held him closer. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you are, Genesis.”

“Oh, I think that’s been _thoroughly_ proven incorrect by this point.” Genesis laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “You’re the only person I know who thinks I’m _capable_ of caring about anyone but myself, and you still—”

“That’s not true.” Angeal felt his wings sweep forward. Felt them curl over Genesis too. Let them. “It’s not true, Genesis.”

“They’re always so damn surprised.” He was crying. His voice was wavering with it. He forced another laugh. “Cloud, and Aerith, and Zack… Sephiroth…”

“They care about you.”

“Because they’re good people.”

“Yes.”

“Not because I am.”

Angeal blinked. Sat back. Scowled at his oldest friend while Genesis stared fixedly at the wall, pretending he wasn’t crying.

“You’re a good person.” Angeal said, slow and firm.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Genesis whispered. “We both know that’s not true. I was on vacation at a beach villa when your father died buying you a _sword_ , Angeal. I should have—”

“You were a kid.” Angeal gripped his shoulders in both hands. Shook him once. “We were kids. It wasn’t your job to save him or me.”

“Even so, Sephiroth—”

“So you had a hard time with him before. Anyone who knows you can see how much you care about him, Genesis. How much you care about all of us.”

“In the Other’s world—”

“Stop.” Angeal shook him again. Just once, hard.

“I’m the one who got hurt. The one who started it. I _know_ I must have been—”

“Genesis.”

“And you know how I get! How I was when I was degrading! I must have been— I _was_ terrible!”

“You weren’t terrible, you were _sick_.”

“You managed to be sick without hurting anyone!” Genesis laughed again, that strained, terrible, broken sound.

“That’s not true.” Angeal shook him again. “It’s not. I hurt everyone around me. You know that, you’re just—”

“Wallowing in self-pity?” Genesis supplied. “Being self-centered? Making _everything_ about me, like I _always_ do?”

“This _is_ about you!”

Angeal dragged him forward by force. Wrapped his arms tightly around him. Genesis gasped in a breath against him, his hands lifting, bracing on his knees, about to tear away and break it all further but—

“Stay.” Angeal whispered, holding onto him. “I’m glad you came. Please. Stay.”

A shaking breath against his chest. He felt Genesis close his eyes. Felt the hands loosen on his knees. Then Genesis murmured, very softly, _“Ouch_ , Angeal.”

“What?”

“Ouch.” Genesis repeated, lifting one hand to gesture back at his broken wing.

Angeal released him like he’d been burned. Watched Genesis let out a breath of relief and drop back to his kneeling position, his wing shaking behind him. His cheeks were wet, and his eyes were red, but he didn’t run.

“Sorry.” Angeal murmured. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Genesis said, waving a hand at his shaking wing, sniffling hard and casting about for something to use as a tissue.

Angeal offered his bedsheets. The look Genesis gave him in response was one of unbridled disgust. But it dissolved into a wet, youthful smile. The soft, lopsided sort that reminded Angeal of a time long, long ago, and two boys who sat on top of Banora White trees, sharing all they could of their vastly different lives.

“I’ll… Just go freshen up a bit.” Genesis murmured, shaking his head.

“Gen, wait.” Angeal shifted. He didn’t dare risk standing again, but it felt like a door, hesitantly opened, threatening to close again. He didn’t want to let it shut.

“No pictures, thank you.” Genesis snarked, apparently on impulse alone, his eyes already sliding towards the bathroom.

“I don’t think you’re a bad friend.” Angeal said, as serious as he could be. “I think you’re a good person, and I think you care more than anyone sees, and it’s hard on you. There’s nothing bad about you.”

Genesis breathed a laugh. Angeal reached out. Didn’t let himself grab him. Just set a hand on his cheek. Over the scars that they shared, albeit in different formations. Genesis didn’t move away, but he didn’t look back either.

“I mean it.” Angeal said, watching Genesis try to avoid his comfort. “It’s been hard, and you’re not just trying to recover from it, you’re trying to be an even better person than you already were. That’s not easy. I don’t just like you, Genesis. I admire you.”

“Oh.” Genesis whispered, his brows twisting. He shook his head, before finally turning those teary eyes on Angeal. “Now you’ve got me crying again!”

“Good thing it’s just best friends here.” Angeal murmured, feeling himself tear up in return. “No one understands me like you, Genesis. I’m more a mentor than a friend to half of them. You don’t have to force yourself for me. I like you as you are.”

“Idiot.” Genesis whispered. “As if I’d ever give you less than my best.”

Angeal smiled. Tight and sad.

“Thank you for coming to check on me.” He whispered. “I’m sorry for worrying you during our mini-vacation.”

“Is that what this is?” Genesis asked with a laugh. “A vacation? It’s absolutely terrible. I demand a do-over.”

“Costa del Sol?” Angeal offered, sitting back at last as the light finally returned to Genesis’s teary eyes.

“A _somewhat_ more acceptable tourist trap, I suppose.” Genesis allowed, through he followed it with a heavy sniffle.

“Backstage on Loveless Avenue?” Angeal offered. “We can camp in the rafters like theater phantoms.”

“I…” Genesis hesitated. Shook his head. “Not… Loveless.”

“No?”

“I haven’t… Had the taste for it recently.”

“I thought you were making your own translation.” Angeal teased with a worried half-chuckle. “What have you been—”

In answer Genesis stood. Walked across the room. Pulled out the book he’d been writing in at nights. He hesitated a moment, then held it out to Angeal.

“I’ll order us that tea.” He murmured, excusing himself and moving stiffly into the adjoining bathroom to freshen up.

Angeal hesitated, then opened the book to the marked page.

 _Today Angeal_ _was hurt_ _. It was a terrible fight. Our teamwork is sloppy, but not for lack of trying or passion. If we had a few weeks to figure it all out, we could be great. But time is not on our side._

 _Sephiroth blames himself, despite all he’s done and sacrificed. I still do not know how to talk to him the way I want to. I don’t know how to tell him that no one blames him without him taking it as cruelty or sarcasm. I’ve been trying, but thus far the closest I have come to earning his trust is in cutting his hair._ _Perhaps_ _I am reading too much into it, but it does give me hope._ _Surely_ _if he distrusted or disliked me he would not trust me with that?_

 _Aerith says there is nothing she can do to speed Angeal’s recovery._ _I have tried to assure her that no one expects miracles from her at every turn, but given that I am only_ alive _due to one of those miracles_ _I believe_ _she takes my reassurance with a grain of salt_ _._

 _Something is on Cloud’s mind, but whatever it is and_ _however_ _much we all tried to assure him he could share his burdens with us, he still will not speak to us_ _. I had hoped after the storm he might realize the hypocrisy of it._ _Expecting Sephiroth to improve at sharing while all the rest of us continue to dig ourselves deeper and suffer in silence_ _._ _Perhaps_ _I should lead by example, but…_

 _If Cloud had not reacted— if he had not taken on the Jenova cells himself—_ _we might_ _have lost Angeal today. I don’t even feel my wing past that fear. Since leaving Banora it has felt so… So freeing, to be certain in our survival. I had almost forgotten we are still fighting for it. Even when Sephiroth_ _was replaced by_ _his Other self, he was still there, if not whole. But the creature, and that damnable Hojo,_ _just_ _taunting us…_

_I suppose it’s good, at least, to know that Vincent is immortal. At least there is one person along on this wretched mission who my inadequacy will not kill._

_If anything came of this, it is good to know that Tifa is brave and capable in battle as Cloud and Sephiroth reported._ _I will try_ _to do better at remembering to speak with her. She is one of our team now._

_Things that May Help:_

_Angeal: Small indulgences and genuine care. He does not enjoy extravagance, but may appreciate tea and company._

_Sephiroth: Reminders that he_ _is liked_ _and his own separate being? I don’t know. I must figure out what Cloud does to make him feel better. Other than hand-holding and cuddling._

 _Aerith: Reassurance that the world will not die without her, which may be challenging as the world may very well die without her_ _._

 _Cloud: A good talking to? That’s more Angeal’s thing than mine._ _Perhaps_ _sheer bull-headed stubbornness, but I doubt I can match him for that. He is a master of it._

 _Zack: I completely forgot to mention Zack in the above entry. He_ _was wounded_ _and poisoned. He annoys me, but I should do better at considering him a friend. Without him, I would not be here._

_Tifa: I suppose getting to know her? She does not seem to be lacking without my company, but she may appreciate the effort none the less. I know my assumptions annoy her._

_Vincent: I don’t know. Therapy?_

“Goddess, are you just reading the whole thing?” Genesis asked from the bathroom door, mortified.

“Genesis, this is—”

“I know, I know, it’s a very Sephiroth thing to do.” Genesis sighed, dragging the corner table into the middle of the room and arranging the chairs at it. “I ordered us some snacks as well, by the way.”

Angeal flipped back a page. Saw another list of their names. Of Genesis struggling to find an answer. Trying to help.

“You can stop reading that any time now.” Genesis muttered, but he made no move to take it away.

Angeal didn’t reply. He was looking at the elegant handwriting and their names. He was looking at how Genesis kept putting them in different orders. Obviously sometimes he forgot Zack or Tifa, and often Vincent. But he had gone back and added them again. He was trying. Trying to figure out what they needed that he could offer. Trying to be more thoughtful, more careful, more—

“Don’t cry!” Genesis objected, throwing his hands in the air. “Give me the damn book, Angeal! You’re supposed to be teasing me about this, you know. It’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to try so hard.” Angeal reiterated, though he offered the book back at Genesis’s request. “We’re your friends, Genesis.”

Genesis looked down at his handwritten lines, then shook his head. Closed the book .

“If I’d died when I was supposed to,” Genesis murmured. “What would I have left behind but suffering? I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be the person Sephiroth thought didn’t like him. I don’t want to be the person who turned his back on his friends. So I’m going to try. As hard as I can.”

He set the book back in his bag. Let out a slow breath. “I told you, Angeal. I’ve been thinking a lot about heroes lately.”

“You’re don’t have to be a hero for us to like you, Genesis.” Angeal objected, shaking his head.

“Oh, I _know_ that.” Genesis scoffed, waving a hand. “Trust me, I’m moving past the old heroism intentions. The problem is—” he rounded the table. Put his hands on his hips to look down at Angeal “—that I’m surrounded by them. And not a single one of them has an ounce of self-preservation or selfishness in their bones. It’s maddening.”

Angeal let out a startled laugh. Took Genesis’s hand when he offered it.

“So I’ve got to learn to start looking out for them.” Genesis said, helping Angeal to his feet and leading him to a chair at the table. “Because clearly they aren’t going to keep themselves safe.”

“And you?” Angeal asked.

“Me?” Genesis asked, lifting his eyebrows, settling in at the table beside his best friend. “Why, I’m literally surrounded by selfless fools. I’ll be fine.”

Angeal breathed a lough. Took Genesis’s hand. Squeezed it on top of the table.

“Guess I’ll have to look out for you extra hard.” He said.

“That would kind of defeat the purpose.” Genesis mentioned, but he let it drop anyway. Sat beside him, holding his hand, sharing silence for a little while like they had as boys, looking out over their home together.

The tea arrived with much fanfare and enough cupcakes, scones, pastries, and treats to feed an army.

“Small indulgences?” Angeal quoted with a wry arch of his eyebrow.

“This is small.” Genesis said. “I didn’t hire any dancers or musicians to accompany it at all. Pass your cup.”

Angeal did. Genesis filled it for him, then filled his own. Inspected the arrangement of sweets with a critical eye, then smiled at last, letting out a slow breath as he settled down.

“To friends?” Genesis offered, lifting his teacup.

“Does it count if it’s not alcohol?” Angeal chuckled. But he lifted his cup as well. Tapped the delicate cups together.

“To best friends.” He amended, and took a careful sip of his tea.

“Don’t try to butter me up, you already know I like you best.” Genesis muttered, sipping his own cup behind a smile.

“Hm.” Angeal’s head was still spinning, but he didn’t mind so much anymore. It didn’t feel the same in the room, but it didn’t feel bad. He had the sense of a door held open, even if only for him for now. Of a risk taken and rewarded. So he did what he had always done in serious moments with Genesis.

“Have you ever thought about how if we linked arms we would make one large angel?” He asked, gesturing to their opposing wings.

“Gods I hate you.” Genesis groaned, lifting a hand to his head.

Angeal smiled smugly down into his tea and selected his first cupcake. There was nothing that lifted his spirits like bothering Genesis.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sephiroth rapped at the door and stuck his head in.

“Angeal? I thought you might— Oh. Apologies, Genesis, I thought—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Genesis complained. “Get in here. Have a cupcake.”

“Join us, Sephiroth.” Angeal agreed with a chuckle. “It’s been too long.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“On what?” Genesis asked with a scoff. Angeal kicked him lightly under the table. Lifted his eyebrows. Genesis scowled at him, then softened. Sighed.

“Stay.” He said instead. “We like your company.” A quick glance to Angeal to ensure that had been right, and then he was repurposing his own plate. Filling it with a selection of treats and pushing it to the other side of the table.

There was nowhere for Sephiroth to sit, but he settled in awkwardly on the bedside. Genesis turned the table so it was within reach.

“May I ask why so many pastries?” Sephiroth hazarded after a moment and half of a cupcake.

“I was having feelings.” Genesis muttered, crossing his arms.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Hey, ‘Geal! I thought you might— Oh, whoa, tea party!”

“Zack.” Angeal greeted, laughing to himself when he saw the giant teddy bear tucked under his arm. “Tell me that’s for Aerith.”

“Uhh,” said Zack before laughing and pressing it into his hands. “Oh, sweet, cupcakes!”

“Oh, help yourself, you may as well.” Genesis sighed.

Angeal checked the tag on the bear. “Get Well Soon, Angeal!”

“Imma sit here, okay?” Zack said, and settled in right next to Sephiroth, shoulder-to-shoulder.

“I— Okay.” Sephiroth responded.

They heard Aerith, Tifa, and Cloud before they saw them. Or, at least, they heard Aerith and Tifa. Their laughter was as contagious as it was welcome.

“Stop.” Cloud complained. “We’re supposed to be quiet, remember?” He opened the door. “Hey, sorry to barge… In…”

He paused. Blinked at the assembly of them.

“Hello, Cloud.” Sephiroth greeted, an almost shy air to his words. “You look nice.”

“Dude, is that a dress?” Zack asked, blinking twice.

“I… Uh…” Cloud was starting to flush. It crept up his neck towards his cheeks.

“Oh, he was wonderful!” Aerith was already gushing, slipping past Cloud into the room. “You should have seen him! He got cast as the princess in the play!”

“Wonderful isn't the word.” Cloud muttered. Tifa snorted wildly, but patted his shoulder.

“I’m very sorry I missed your performance.” Sephiroth said serious and concerned.

“Oh, gods, me too.” Genesis muttered with a cruel light in his eyes.

“Aerith, cupcakes!” Zack informed her, as if she couldn’t see them.

“You may as well come in, Trooper.” Angeal chuckled. “It seems like checking in on me has turned into a group affair.”

“Thanks. I’d have stopped by sooner, but—”

“Royal duties called, princess?” Tifa suggested, and she and Aerith both turned pink as they tried to fight back laughter while Cloud scowled at the corner and tapped his toe.

Angeal couldn’t help it. With Genesis at his side, sourly sharing a bounty of sweets he’d clearly intended to share the whole time, and Sephiroth awkwardly trying to decide how to compliment Cloud, and the girls laughing, and Zack grinning at him with a wild, encouraging look in his eye…

Angeal laughed. Laughed like he hadn’t in a long, long time. Threw his head back and guffawed at their messy, wonderful, broken, repaired little family. It didn’t matter that his head was swimming. It didn’t matter that the marks might scar. He was here because these strange, wonderful people cared. And as hard as it had been, as long and exhausting, at that moment he had never felt happier.

“Uh,” Cloud muttered. “Is he—”

“He’s fine.” Genesis chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “He’s just fine.”

The bed ended up covered in the rest of their party. Eating and laughing and regaling Sephiroth and Zack with tales of Princess Cloud’s elegant pirouettes and the terrible dragon that had threatened him.

“I was just supposed to fight in the battle arena.” Cloud muttered into his hands.

“You’re feeling alright?” Aerith asked Angeal. “Can I check on your wounds?”

“Later.” Angeal promised. “I feel fine right now.”

“Do it! Do it!” Zack was chanting, trying to egg Cloud on in an encore performance.

“I will not be a spoil sport, I will not be a spoil sport.” Genesis muttered to himself over and over, eye twitching at the clear mockery of theater being made in Gold Saucer all around them.

The door opened one final time, and for once no one was surprised to see Vincent. They were, however, significantly more surprised to watch a little black and white cat in a crown tumble out of his arms and onto the ground.

“Sorry to interrupt… Whatever this is.” Vincent said, eyes sliding to Cloud. “But the cat says it can help us catch up to Hojo.”

“The… Cat… Says?” Zack said, tilting his head.

“Ah, yes.” A familiar voice said through the cat. “Reeve Tuesti here. I’ve informed Director Lazard that we tracked you down, but… Well. It appears there’s something of a coup happening here, and we’d rather be on the winning side. So were hoping we might be able to help with whatever it is that you all are doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left...  
> (PS, extra kudos to Tomo for the way she drew Angeal in this chapter!!!)


End file.
